COFFEE  and 
a  LOVE   AFFAIR 

AN   AMERICAN    GIRL'S    ROMANCE   ON 
A    COFFEE    PLANTATION 

BY 

MARY   BOARDMAN   SHELDON 


NEW   YORK 

FREDERICK   A.   STOKES    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


September,  1908 


PS 
3531 


tto 

MY  BROTHER 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 


El  Cafetal,  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains. 

June  14-th. 

I   HAVE   been   here  two   weeks.     I   am 
alive.     I  am  well,  and  I  like  it. 
What  an  experiment  it  was,   though, 
— •  my    coming!     If    I    had    ever,    for    one 
moment,  thought  of  myself  as  an  angel,  this 
action  on  my  part  would  have  opened  my 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  in  reality  I  must  be  noth 
ing  else  than  a  fool.     There  can  be  no  doubt 
whatever  that  this  is  a  case  in  which  angels 
would   have   feared  to   tread;   while   I  —  I 
rushed  in  as  fast  as  the  mule  could  carry  me. 
I   was  in  Santa   Marta,   waiting   for  the 
banana  boat  to  come  in,  that  I  might  take 
passage  on  it,  and  return  to  what  the  for 
eigners    here    call    "  God's    country."     For 
a  year  and  a  half  I  had  been  in  Colombia, 
9 


io       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

up  in  Bogota.  I  had  come  down  again  to 
the  coast  with  every  intention  of  returning 
to  civilization  by  the  first  steamer.  I  suppose 
any  sane  person  would  have  done  so,  but  on 
the  subject  of  travel  I  always  acknowledge, 
quite  frankly,  that  I  am  not  sane.  I  wonder 
if  any  other  girl  in  the  world  ever  refused 
to  marry  a  man  simply  because  she  preferred 
to  go  to  Europe.  Two  years  ago,  in  New 
York,  I  told  Kent  Winthrop  that  I  would 
rather  go  to  Europe  than  marry  any  man  in 
the  world.  He  replied  that  he  would  rather 
have  me  go  to  Europe  than  marry  any  man 
in  the  world  except  him.  But  when  I  put 
the  emphasis  differently,  and  told  him  that 
I  would  rather  go  to  Europe  than  marry  any 
man,  he  said  —  rather  crisply,  I  remember  — 
that  if  I  preferred  Europe  to  him,  to  take 
Europe  by  all  means.  I  took  Europe. 
There  I  met  the  Caravallos;  went  with  them 
to  Bogota;  returned  to  the  coast  expecting 
to  go  home;  fell  in  love  with  Coffee,  and 
came  up  here  to  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  Well 
and  truly  does  Kipling  say  that  the  "  go 
fever "  is  more  real  than  many  doctors' 
diseases ! 

The  day  that  I  arrived  in  Santa  Marta  I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR    n 

met  one  of  the  five  American  men  of  the 
town.  The  mere  fact  that  I  had  arrived  — 
that  I  was  there  —  I,  a  lone  woman,  unmar 
ried,  and  without  grey  hairs, —  was  in  itself 
singular  enough  to  make  it  perfectly  reason 
able,  almost  inevitable,  that  this  one-fifth  of 
the  American  male  colony  should  put  to  me 
the  question  that  he  did.  I  forget  how  he 
phrased  it;  —  in  some  words  that  placed  it 
in  the  light  of  a  fellow-countryman's  friendly 
interest  —  but  the  gist  of  the  interrogation 
was: 
•  "  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here?  " 

I  answered  him  that  I  was  doing  nothing; 
that  is,  that  I  had  no  business  reason  for 
being  there.  I  had  come,  I  said,  for  pleas 
ure. 

"Pleasure?"  he  repeated,  incredulously. 
"  Good  Lord !  Pleasure!  " 

If  I  had  been  there  for  anything  else,  I 
think  this  blanket  would  have  been  a  very 
damp  one  indeed;  but  as  I  really  had  come 
simply  because  it  had  pleased  me  to  do  so; 
and  as*  I  knew  that  if  I  so  wished  I  could 
leave  by  the  next  Tuesday's  banana  boat; 
and  as,  moreover  and  above  all,  I  was  sin 
cerely  and  honestly  enjoying  myself  at  that 


12   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

moment,  Mr.  Anson's  words  frightened  me 
no  more  than  does  a  thunder  storm  in  a 
play.  The  house  is  very  dark,  certainly,  and 
so  much  noise  and  such  lightning  effects  ought 
to  be  terrifying;  yet  really  I  am  having  a 
beautiful  time,  and  would  not  for  worlds 
be  defrauded  of  one  of  the  creepy  chills  that 
go  running  down  my  back. 

It  was  even  that  same  first  day,  I  think, 
that  saw  the  beginning  of  my  interest  in 
Coffee.  I  knew,  of  course,  before  I  came  to 
Santa  Marta,  that  this  was  a  coffee  region, 
and  that  up  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains, 
hereabouts,  were  cafetales  —  coffee  planta 
tions.  But  I  did  not  realize  what  the  atmos 
phere  of  a  coffee  region  is  until  I  found  my 
self  in  one.  It  means  coffee  and  coffee  and 
coffee.  Coffee  lands  —  past,  present  and 
future ;  —  coffee  trees,  with  and  without 
shade;  the  picking  of  coffee,  the  drying  of 
coffee,  the  prices  of  coffee;  —  until  one  feels 
that  to  go  back  to  North  America  without 
having  experienced  a  coffee  plantation  would 
be  to  give  over  the  remainder  of  one's  life 
to  one,  long,  unavailing  regret.  Almost  with 
out  exception  everyone  that  I  met  was  directly 
interested  in  coffee.  Either  he  owned  a  plan- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   13 

tation,  or  was  manager  of  one,  or  was  going 
to  live  on  one  to  learn  the  business,  or  was 
looking  for  land  on  which  to  make  one,  or 
was  getting  up  a  company  to  capitalize  one; 
—  in  one  way  or  another,  it  was  sure  to  be- 
coffee.  Of  course  there  is  the  United  Fruit 
Company,  and  that  is  not  coffee;  —  it  is 
bananas,  and  it  is  a  great  power  in  the  land. 
Perhaps  another  person,  going  to  Santa 
Marta,  would  find  the  world  all  bananas; 
but  for  me,  from  the  very  first,  it  was  Coffee. 

As  I  say,  this  enthusiasm  came  upon  me 
at  once,  upon  my  arrival,  and  yet  there 
seemed  to  be  no  way  in  which  I  could  get  any 
nearer  to  Coffee  than  I  then  was  —  perhaps 
fifteen  miles  from  the  nearest  hacienda  (plan 
tation).  There  are  no  hotels  in  the  moun 
tains  —  only  the  homes  of  the  planters  and 
their  families  —  and  I  had  no  excuse  what 
ever  for  intruding  myself  upon  any  of  them. 
I  was  not  a  capitalist,  nor  a  prospector,  nor 
a  young  man  seeking  an  opportunity  to  learn 
to  be  a  planter.  I  was  only  a  woman.  Why 
should  Coffee  take  any  interest  in  me?  And 
yet, —  where  there's  a  woman  there  is  usually 
a  way  . 

On  Sunday  afternoon,  the  United  States 


14   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

consul  invited  some  of  us  to  go  about  three 
miles  out  of  Santa  Marta  to  see  some  old 
Indian  graves;  also  to  visit  the  house  in  which 
Bolivar  died.  El  Serior  Consul  drove  me  in 
his  little  one  horse  shay,  while  the  others 
rode  on  mules  or  horseback.  As  usual  the 
conversation  turned  upon  coffee,  and  I  said 
that  I  had  never  in  my  life  wished  for  any 
thing  as  much  as  I  now  wanted  to  go  to  a 
coffee  plantation  and  experience  the  life  there. 

"Would  you  go  as  governess?"  inquired 
El  Senor  Consul,  carelessly.  He  had  no  idea 
that  I  was  in  earnest. 

"  Go  as  governess !  "  I  simply  jumped  at 
the  idea.  Go  as  governess !  !  —  My  affirm 
ation  came  with  such  force  and  swiftness  that 
El  Senor  Consul  was  quite  taken  aback. 

"  You  wouldn't  like  it  at  all,"  he  assured 
me,  hastily,  seeming  to  feel  that  if  I  did  go, 
now,  he  would  be  in  some  way  responsible 
for  me  and  my  well-being. 

"Shouldn't  like  it?  I  should  love  it,"  I 
told  him.  "Why  shouldn't  I  like  it?" 

"  You  live  in  New  York?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes;  but  I  like  to  see  new  places." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  for  any  length  of 
time  entirely  away  from  civilization?" 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   15 

"  I  have  spent  a  summer  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks." 

El  Sefior  Consul  smiled. 

"  Do  you  mean  in  the  woods?  "  he  asked. 

"  N-o ;  not  exactly.  We  were  just  across 
the  lake  from  the  Prospect  House.  We  used 
to  go  over  to  the  dances,  and  to  bowl,  in 
the  morning." 

"  Exactly.  Now  if  you  went  up  to  El 
Cafetal,  you  would  simply  be  buried  alive. 
The  Martins  are  nice  people  —  the  very 
nicest  —  but  they  live  in  a  four-room,  mud 
house,  with  a  palm-thatched  roof.  The  win 
dows  are  simply  openings  in  the  walls,  with 
no  glass  in  them.  There  are  no  doors  be 
tween  the  rooms --just  curtains.  The  last 
time  I  was  up  there,  the  outside  door  would 
not  shut  within  several  inches  —  the  damp 
ness  had  warped  it.  In  the  rainy  season, 
which  is  just  now  beginning,  and  will  con 
tinue  until  next  December,  everything  is 
drenched  for  eighteen  hours  out  of  every 
twenty-four.  The  fog  comes  rolling  into  the 
house  so  thick  that  you  can  almost  mould 
it  up,  like  snow  balls.  When  it  is  not  rain 
ing  you  can  go  out,  but  there  is  nowhere  to 
go.  The  house  is  on  the  side  of  a  steep 


1 6       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

mountain;  you  cannot  climb  up  because  di 
rectly  back  of  the  house  begins  an  almost 
impenetrable  forest.  If  you  go  in  the  other 
direction,  you  —  well,  if  you  missed  your 
footing  and  began  to  roll,  you  would  be  back 
in  Santa  Marta  before  you  could  stop  your 
self.  The  Martins  are  delightful  people,  as 
I  have  said,  but  they  are  perfect  strangers 
to  you.  Would  you  not  be  a  little  forlorn 
with  them,  alone?  The  nearest  neighbors 
are  at  least  three  miles  away." 

He  paused. 

"  At  last !  "  I  said  to  myself.  For,  all 
the  time  that  he  had  been  talking,  I,  though 
I  had  listened  to  him,  had  been  carrying  on 
a  train  of  thought  of  my  own. 

"How  many  children  are  there?"  I 
wanted  to  know. 

"  Children!  Oh,  six;  but  one  of  them  is 
in  Barranquilla,  at  school." 

"  Are  the  other  five  old  enough  to  have 
lessons?  " 

"No;  only  three  of  them.  Look  here; 
you  don't  really  mean  it,  do  you?  Why, 
you  never  heard  of  them  until  half  an  hour 
ago.  Aren't  you  at  least  going  to  think  it 
over?" 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   17 

"  Senor  Consul,"  I  said,  "  a  year  ago  last 
August  I  was  in  Switzerland.  I  had  gone 
to  Europe  with  the  idea  of  living  as  governess 
in  some  French  or  German  family,  to  learn 
French  or  German  while  I  taught  English. 
In  Switzerland  I  met  the  Caravallos  — a  fam 
ily  from  Bogota.  I  had  never  seen  or  heard 
of  them  before,  and  as  for  the  place  they 
came  from,  I  knew  so  little  of  it  that  when 
one  of  them  told  me  that  his  home  was  Co 
lombia, —  British  Columbia  was  the  only 
country  of  that  name  that  occurred  to  me. 
When  he  explained  that  it  was  Colombia, 
South  America,  I  went  to  my  room  and  looked 
in  an  atlas  to  find  out  whether  Colombia  was 
north  or  south  of  Rio  Janeiro.  Only  three 
out  of  the  eight  Caravallos  knew  a  word  of 
English,  and,  until  then,  I  had  never  even, 
heard  the  Spanish  language  spoken.  When 
I  had  known  these  people  four  weeks,  they 
asked  me  if  I  would  return  with  them  to  Bo 
gota,  as  governess  for  the  one  daughter,  a 
girl  of  fifteen.  It  was  about  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  when  they  suggested  the  plan 
to  me,  and  when  we  went  in  to  dinner,  every 
thing  had  been  arranged.  The  next  day  I 
went  to  Geneva  and  secured  my  passage  on 


1 8   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

the  same  steamer  that  the  Caravallos  were 
sailing  on.  I  went  with  them  to  Bogota, 
remained  with  them  a  year  and  a  half,  and 
I  was  so  far  from  regretting  it  that  now  I 
am  ready  — " 

'*  To  do  it  all  over  again  at  El  Cafetal," 
interrupted  El  Senor  Consul. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  positively;  "to  go  to  El 
Cafetal  —  if  they  will  have  me." 

Of  course  there  was  that  side  to  be  con 
sidered.  I, —  being,  as  I  have  explained,  not 
an  angel,  but  the  other  thing, —  might  be 
willing  to  go  to  an  unknown  family,  in  a  mud 
house,  in  the  woods,  twenty  miles  from  Santa 
Marta,  which  was  two  thousand  miles  from 
home.  But  to  those  people  /  was  the  un 
known  quantity,  not  they,  and  who  could  tell 
if  they  would  care  to  take  their  chances  with 
me?  As  Elizabeth  says  of  her  governess, 
"  I  am  afraid  she  despises  us  because  she 
thinks  we  are  foreigners  —  We,  on  the  other 
hand,  regard  her  as  a  foreigner,  which,  of 
course,  makes  things  very  complicated." 

On  that  point,  however,  El  Senor  Consul, 
quite  properly  —  else  why  is  he  consul?  — 
offered  to  arbitrate,  or  mediate,  or  intervene,. 
or  whatever  it  is  that  consuls  do  to  get  their 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   19 

countrymen  out  of  difficulties  (only  in  this 
case  it  was  a  countrywoman,  and  into  difficul 
ties  instead  of  out  of  them),  and  said 
that  the  next  time  that  Mr.  Martin  "  came 
down,"  he  would  try  to  arrange  matters  for 
me. 

"  You  speak,"  I  said,  "  as  if  Mr.  Martin 
were  the  angel  Gabriel,  about  to  descend 
from  Paradise.  How  does  he  come  down, 
and  what  for?  " 

"  Wait  until  you  go  up  to  El  Ca fetal,  and 
you  will  know,"  was  the  only  answer  that  I 
received.  I  have  come  up,  and  I  do,  indeed, 
understand  all  about  it. 

Mr.  Martin  arrived  in  Santa  Marta  a  day 
or  two  later,  and  went,  of  course,  to  the  con 
sulate.  I  was  sent  for  in  haste,  ushered  into 
the  sola  (sitting  room),  and  introduced  as 
the  young  woman  who  would  like  to  go  into 
the  mountains  as  governess.  Mr.  Martin 
looked  me  over  and  said  he  would  consult 
his  wife  on  the  subject  and  let  me  know. 
Mrs.  Martin  has  since  told  me  that  she  asked 
her  husband  what  kind  of  looking  person  I 
was. 

"How  does  she  look?"  he  answered. 
"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  believe  she  is  rather 


20   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

neat-looking."     To    such    an    extent    may    a 
man  be  married. 

Mrs.  Martin  must  have  felt  that  neatness 
was  a  desirable  quality  in  a  governess,  for  a 
few  days  later  I  received  a  note  from  her 
(brought  down  by  Juana  because  they  were 
afraid  to  send  a  man,  lest  he  be  seized  for 
the  revolution)  in  which  she  said  that  they 
would  be  glad  to  have  me;  that  Mr.  Martin 
would  be  down  on  Monday,  and  I  could  re 
turn  with  him.  She  added  that  they  were 
building  a  new  house  which  would  have 
plenty  of  rooms  in  it;  it  would  be  finished 
in  three  or  four  months;  in  the  meantime,  she 
hoped  I  would  not  mind  sleeping  with  the 
children.  I  thought  of  El  Serior  Consul's 
reply  to  my  question  as  to  the  number  of  little 
Martins,  and  I  will  admit  that  for  the  mo 
ment  my  heart  failed  me.  Then  I  remem 
bered  Coffee,  and  sent  back  a  note  by  Juana 
saying  that  I  and  my  steamer  trunk  would 
be  ready  at  the  time  appointed.  I  packed 
my  other  trunks,  with  pounds  of  camphor 
against  the  moths,  and  had  all  things  taken  to 
the  house  of  the  Seriora  Consul,  who  kindly 
offered  to  store  them  for  me  until  such  time 
as  I  shpuld  "  come  down  "  to  go  home.  In 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   21 

these  days  of  revolution,  the  foreign  con 
sulates  are  of  course  the  houses  that  are  safest 
from  loot;  and  there  may  be  fighting  in  Santa 
Marta  at  any  time.  In  the  steamer  trunk  I 
packed  such  clothes  as  could  be  washed;  on 
my  big  shade  hat  I  put  fresh  muslin  bows, 
and  then  I  was  ready.  For  weal  or  for  woe, 
I  was  to  spend  the  next  six  months  in  the  wil 
derness. 

We  left  Santa  Marta  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Mr.  Martin  had  brought  down  a 
mule  for  me  to  ride,  and  another  for  my 
trunk,  which  was  hung  from  a  pack-saddle  on 
one  side  of  the  mule,  and  balanced  by  an 
equal  weight  of  cargo  —  rice,  oil,  flour  — 
what  ever  happened  to  be  going  up  to  the 
hacienda  —  on  the  other  side.  There  were 
other  cargo  mules,  also,  going  up  laden  with 
articles  for  the  store  (every  plantation  has 
its  own  store,  where  the  men  and  their  fam 
ilies  can  buy  what  they  need),  and  two  ar- 
rieros,  or  muleteers,  were  driving  the  animals 
in  front  of  them.  It  is  twenty-one  miles 
from  Santa  Marta  to  El  Ca/etal,  and  in  that 
distance  there  is  a  rise  of  four  thousand  feet, 
so  that  the  trail  is  a  steep  one;  yet  the  natives 
—  not  the  men,  only,  but  the  women  and  the 


22   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

children  —  think  nothing  of  going  up  and 
down  on  foot.  The  arrieros  go  most  of  the 
way  on  a  sort  of  trot,  and  have  no  difficulty 
in  keeping  pace  with  the  mules,  even  on  level 
ground. 

The  sun  was  just  up  as  Mr.  Martin  and  I 
rode  away  from  the  hotel,  but  already  it  was 
very  hot.  For  the  first  two  hours,  the  way 
is  over  the  plain  which  extends  back  from 
Santa  Marta  and  the  Bay  for  perhaps  eight 
miles.  The  rainy  season  on  the  coast  has 
only  lately  begun,  following  a  dry  season  of 
four  or  five  months,  and  the  plain  is  burnt  to 
a  crisp.  That  part  of  the  ride  up  is  the  least 
attractive.  About  eight  o'clock  we  com 
menced  to  ascend,  and  from  then  on  it  was 
a  constant  climb.  After  a  while  the  air  be 
gan  to  feel  fresher  and  cooler,  and  above  two 
thousand  feet  we  had  beautiful  views  of 
Santa  Marta,  down  below,  with  the  Bay,  and 
beyond  that  the  Caribbean  Sea,  stretching 
out  to  the  horizon.  We  passed  several  coffee 
plantations  on  our  way  up.  El  Cafetal  is 
the  farthest  one  from  Santa  Marta  ;  —  that 
is,  the  farthest  in  this  valley.  There  are 
other  plantations  in  the  next  valley,  and  one 
of  them,  they  say,  is  higher  than  we  are. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   23 

I  began  to  like  Mr.  Martin  during  that 
morning's  ride,  and  before  we  reached  the 
end  of  it,  I  was  hoping  that  I  should  find  Mrs. 
Martin  half  as  nice  as  he  was. 

After  it  had  been  decided  that  I  was  to 
come  up  here  (most  persons  would  have 
done  it  before,  instead  of  after,  I  suppose), 
I  asked  El  Senor  Consul :  — 

"  What  sort  of  man  is  Mr.  Martin?  " 

"What  sort?"  answered  El  Senor  Con 
sul.  "  He  is  the  manager  of  a  coffee  plan 
tation." 

"  Of  course,"  I  returned,  surprised. 
"  That  is  what  he  does.  I  mean,  what  is  he? 
What  is  he  like?" 

"  He  is  like  the  only  kind  of  man  that 
can  be  a  successful  coffee  planter,"  persisted 
El  Senor  Consul. 

"  You  mean  that  he  knows  all  about 
coffee?" 

"  No  one  in  the  world  knows  all  about 
coffee.  However,  Mr.  Martin  knows  as 
much  as  is  possible,  I  believe.  But  that  is  by 
no  means  all  that  is  necessary.  A  coffee  man 
ager  must  manage  —  that  is  very  important 
indeed." 

"  Manage  the  plantation?  " 


24   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  Manage  the  mozos  —  the  working 
hands.  Do  you  know  how  many  men  there 
are  at  El  Cafetal?" 

"No.     How  many?" 

u  About  one  hundred,  more  or  less,  I 
should  think.  Most  of  them  have  families. 
They  live  in  ranchos  —  palm-thatched  huts 
• —  scattered  here  and  there  over  the  hacienda. 
Now  those  mozos  need  a  master  who  thor 
oughly  understands  them." 

"Are  they  difficult  to  control?" 

4  Control '  isn't  the  word ;  at  least,  it 
isn't  with  a  good  manager.  He  comes  to 
that  only  as  a  last  resort." 

"What  does  he  do  first?" 

"  Oh,  he  manipulates,  he  directs,  he  guides, 
he  conducts,  he  regulates.  As  I  said,  he  man 
ages." 

"  Ah !  "  I  responded,  thoughtfully.  My 
query,  "  What  sort  of  man  is  Mr.  Martin?  " 
was  being  answered.  I  was  beginning  to 
know. 

"But  the  mozos — ?"  I  questioned  fur 
ther.  "They  are—  ?" 

"  '  Half  savage  and  half  child,'  "  quoted 
El  Senor  Consul.  "  That  just  expresses  it. 
They  are  as  irresponsible  and  unreliable  as 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   25 

children,  with  the  elemental  passions  and  in 
stincts  of  savages.  It  is  impossible  to  deal 
with  them  as  with  reasonable  beings,  yet  there 
is  always  the  necessity  for  working  out  a  rea 
sonable  plan  of  action  with  them  and  through 
them." 

"And  Mr.  Martin  does  this?" 

"  Oh,  yes;  he  does  it.  You  will  see.  For 
one  thing,  they  all  realise  that  there  is  no  part 
of  the  work  which,  he  himself  does  not  know 
how  to  do,  from  planting  the  coffee  to  shoeing 
the  mules." 

About  half  past  eleven  —  to  return  to  the 
morning  of  my  coming  up  here  —  as  we  were 
riding  in  a  place  where  the  valley  opens  out, 
and  permits  a  long  view  to  the  left,  Mr.  Mar 
tin  pointed  with  his  whip  to  a  white  spot  on 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  away. 

"  Do  you  see  that?  "  he  asked  me. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "what  is  it?" 

"  It  is  the  place  you  are  going  to,"  he  an 
swered,  "  That  is  the  manager's  house  of  El 
Cafetal." 

So  that  was  the  four-roomed,  palm- 
thatched,  mud  house,  with  apologies  for 


26   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

doors  and  windows,  of  which  El  Serior  Con 
sul  had  warned  me.  I  strained  my  eyes  to 
see  it  better,  and,  really  as  we  drew  near,  I 
was  reassured,  for  small  as  it  certainly  was, 
and  queer,  and  alien-looking  to  United  States 
eyes,  it  yet  had  an  air  of  home  and  welcome 
about  it.  At  the  time  I  thought  this  might 
be  on  account  of  the  roses;  but  now,  a  week 
later,  I  know  that  it  is  due  to  the  house-lady 
—  La  Nina  Eva. 

We  rode  up  to  the  corridor,  and  at  once 
there  appeared  to  be  forty  or  fifty  children 
running  to  greet  us,  all  shouting  with  one 
voice,  "  Ahi  viene  la  teacher!  "  "  Ah'i  viene 
la  teacher!"  "Here  comes  the  teacher! 
Here  comes  the  teacher!  "  These  resolved 
themselves,  presently,  into  three  children  who 
were  old  enough  to  run  and  talk;  one  old 
enough  to  run  and  shout,  and  one  two-months- 
old  baby  in  her  mother's  arms. 

I  looked  at  Mrs.  Martin,  and  Mrs.  Mar 
tin  looked  at  me  —  the  while  she  put  her  arm 
around  me  and  said  something  —  I  have  no 
idea  what,  except  that  from  that  moment  I 
felt  that  I  was  at  home.  I  do  not  know,  of 
course,  what  was  the  result  in  Mrs.  Martin's 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR       27 

mind  of  her  scrutiny  of  the  new  governess; 
but  as  for  me  and  my  mind  —  we  were  abso 
lutely  and  perfectly  satisfied. 

The  required  characteristics  of  a  frontiers 
man's  wife  are  the  same  the  world  over,  I 
fancy.  Some  women  take  the  hard  life  well 
and  cheerfully,  and  some  grumble  and  make 
the  worst  of  it.  But  the  life  is  there  and  it 
must  be  lived,  and  I  hope  that  if  ever  I  had 
to  live  it,  I  should  do  it  as  Mrs.  Martin 
does. 

Though  we  have  six  house-servants,  they 
are  all  so  incompetent  that  Mrs.  Martin  has 
to  be  busy  from  morning  to  night.  In  the 
first  place,  she  makes  all  of  her  own  and  the 
children's  clothes;  she  bakes  the  bread,  and 
she  makes  the  butter  when  there  is  milk 
enough  to  churn.  Though  there  is  a  woman 
in  the  kitchen  whose  sole  business  is  to  cook, 
it  falls  upon  Mrs.  Martin  to  make  all  the 
dulces  —  that  is,  the  sweets,  preserves,  des 
serts,  etc. —  and  any  other  dish  that  requires 
brains  and  nice  handling.  Occasionally 
there  is  a  laundress  who  knows  enough  to 
starch  the  clothes,  but  usually  there  is  none  so 
gifted,  and  so  Mrs.  Martin  has  that  to  do. 
Besides  all  this,  La  Nina  Eva  raises  all  the 


28   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

vegetables  that  come  upon  our  table.  She 
has  a  fine  little  garden,  and  she  does  all  the 
planting,  weeding  and  picking  herself.  I 
have  had  nothing  like  such  good  things  to  eat 
since  I  left  New  York.  All  of  our  beef  is 
killed  on  the  place  (the  killing  is  done  Sun 
day  mornings,  at  four  o'clock,  by  the  way  of 
beginning  the  week  well)  and  for  the  first 
time  in  eighteen  months  I  am  enjoying  rare 
roasts  and  good  American  beef  steaks.  In 
Bogota,  when  they  kill  an  animal,  the  next 
thing  they  do  is  to  bleed  it  until  the  flesh  is 
like  to  that  nominated  in  Shylock's  bond. 
Then  they  cook  the  meat  over  a  slow  fire  until 
a  nice,  tender,  juicy  piece  of  leather  would 
be  a  luxury  by  comparison.  Then  it  is  al 
lowed  to  cool,  is  cut  into  slices  and  served  on 
cold  plates;  and  when  one  eats  of  it  spar 
ingly,  the  Colombians  cry,  "  A*ve  Maria! 
Que  raro  que  no  le  gusta  la  carne!  " — "  Hail 
Mary!  How  strange  that  you  do  not  like 
meat!"  As  for  fresh  vegetables, —  let  a 
native  have  his  rice  cooked  with  lard,  and  his 
fried  platanos,  and  he  would  not  give  a 
Thank  you  for  all  the  market  produce  of 
New  Jersey. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR        29 

I  am  writing  in  my  room;  —  not  mine  and 
the  children's,  but  all  mine.  Some  people 
are  said  to  be  as  good  as  their  word:  Mrs. 
Martin  is  very  much  better  than  hers. 

On  my  arrival  she  made  me  welcome,  as  I 
have  written.  Then  she  said  to  me,  "  Won't 
you  come  into  your  room  and  take  off  your 
hat?" 

I  followed  her,  wondering  if  there  would 
be  a  separate  bed  for  me,  or  if  the  five  chil 
dren  and  I  should  all  bunk  in  together.  We 
passed  through  a  room  which  looked  as  if  it 
were  used  as  a  sitting-room,  because  there 
was  a  desk  in  it,  and  books  and  sewing  were 
about;  but  which,  at  the  same  time,  I  saw 
must  be  the  dining-room,  for  there  was  the 
dining  table,  set  for  breakfast.  Mrs.  Mar 
tin  lifted  a  curtain  (no  doors  between  the 
rooms; — you  told  the  truth,  Sefior  Consul!), 
and  there  was  another  room,  not  large,  but 
very  neat  looking  —  like  me.  In  a  corner 
was  one  bed  —  only  one  —  and  that  a  single- 
size  canvas  cot.  Did  the  children  sleep  on 
the  floor,  then?  Did  they  sleep  in  the  bed, 
and  was  I  to  sleep  on  the  floor?  Were  all 
six  of  us  to  sleep  in  that  bed,  just  large  enough 
for  one  ?  — 


30   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  This  was  the  dining-room,"  Mrs.  Mar 
tin's  voice  broke  in  upon  my  amazement; 
"  but  I  thought  it  would  be  nicer  for  you  to 
have  a  room  alone;  so  we  have  had  the  din 
ing  table  taken  into  the  sala,  and  this  ar 
ranged  for  you." 

That  night,  as  I  was  going  to  sleep  in  the 
little  canvas  cot,  I  heard  strange,  rustling 
noises  over  my  head.  There  are  no  ceilings 
in  the  house  —  only  the  poles  of  the  roof, 
thatched  with  palm  leaves  which  on  the  in 
side  are  as  dry  as  a  bone.  This  roof  does 
not  fit  very  tightly  on  the  side  walls,  so  that 
under  the  eaves  there  are  spaces  through 
which  the  air  passes  freely. 

"Ah,"  I  said  to  myself,  sleepily,  "the 
wind  is  rustling  the  palm  leaves.  What  a 
pretty  thought!  And  how  interesting!" 

But  in  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awak 
ened  by  a  soft  thud  on  the  outside  of  my 
blankets,  as  if  some  small  —  not  very  small 
-  object  had  dropped  onto  the  bed.  It  was 
as  though  a  kitten  had  jumped  from  the  floor, 
or  fallen  from  the  roof:  yet  I  had  seen  no 
kittens.  It  was  very  curious;  but  I  had  been 
awake  soon  after  four  that  morning;  I  had 
travelled  twenty  miles  on  a  mule,  and  I  was 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   31 

tired  and  very  sleepy,  so  I  could  not  stay 
awake  to  wonder  at  anything. 

About  daylight  —  always  very  near  to  six 
o'clock  in  this  latitude  —  I  opened  my  eyes, 
remembered  where  I  was,  and  glanced  about 
me.  Again  I  heard  the  rustling  noises  over 
head,  and  I  looked  up  to  the  roof.  The 
palm  leaves  were  moving  —  but  not  in  the 
wind!  The  roof  was  simply  alive  with  rats, 
running  over  the  poles,  and  among  the  thatch, 
in  all  directions.  This  was  my  pretty 
thought !  It  was  still  interesting,  certainly, 
but  there  are  times  when  one  would  willingly 
remain  uninterested,  even  to  the  point  of 
boredom. 

I  dressed  hastily  and  went  out.  My  little 
room  has  three  doors;  —  one  communicating 
with  the  sala,  and  two  opening  on  the  corri 
dor  which  runs  all  around  the  house.  The 
sun  was  just  rising,  though  it  would  not  ap 
pear  above  the  mountain  back  of  us  for  two 
hours  yet.  If  the  view  that  I  saw  that  morn 
ing,  and  have  seen  every  morning  since,  were 
in  Europe  —  Cook  and  Company  would  not 
be  able  to  sell  tickets  fast  enough  to  the  tour 
ists  who  would  flock  to  see  it.  I  stood  on 
our  front  corridor,  and,  looking  down  the 


32   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

whole  length  of  the  valley,  I  saw  Santa 
Marta,  twenty  miles  away,  lying,  in  that  early 
morning  light,  white  and  glittering,  like  a 
city  in  a  dream.  Santa  Marta  has  the  most 
beautiful  situation  that  can  be  imagined  — 
built  on  its  wide  curve  of  the  Caribbean  Sea, 
with  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  rising 
behind  it.  When  I  came  to  Colombia,  I 
landed  at  Barranquilla;  but  I  should  like  to 
come  again,  and  sail  straight  past  the  Morro 
into  Santa  Marta  Bay,  either  very  early  in 
the  morning,  or  at  sunset. 

On  my  right,  then,  as  I  say,  was  the  long 
vista  of  the  valley,  with  Santa  Marta  lying 
at  the  foot,  and  beyond  that,  the  sea.  To 
the  left, —  range  after  range  of  mountains. 
Back  of  the  house,  the  mountains  and  the  for 
ests;  in  front,  far  in  the  distance;  the  Magda- 
lena  River;  and,  nearer,  the  lagoons  which 
we  crossed  when  we  came  from  Barranquilla. 
I  remember  that  at  five  o'clock  on  the  last 
morning  of  that  trip  from  Barranquilla,  a 
fellow-passenger  came  to  the  window  of  the 
little  cabin  in  which  we  women  had  slept, 
and  called  to  me  to  come  on  deck.  "  Do 
come  out,"  he  said,  "the  view  is  beautiful; 
• — the  Sierra  Nevadas  all  pink;  the  moon, 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   33 

and  three  stars  of  the  Southern  Cross!  "  I 
hurried  out,  and  found  thai  it  was  just  get 
ting  light;  that  the  sun  was  almost  risen,  while 
the  moon  had  not  yet  set;  and  of  the  stars, 
only  those  three  great  ones  of  the  Cross  still 
remained  in  the  sky.  I  had  no  idea,  then, 
that  I  should  ever  be  living  in  those  Sierra 
Nevada  Mountains,  looking  so  lovely  in  the 
dawn  of  a  tropic  day. 

By  this  time  I  am  beginning  to  know  the 
plantation  and  its  life  rather  well. 

As  to  the  house,  it  is  all  that  El  Senor  Con 
sul  told  me,  and  more  also,  as  he  did  not  men 
tion  the  rats.  There  are  four  rooms.  One 
of  them  is  occupied  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mar 
tin,  the  baby,  Dollie,  and  the  two-year-old 
boy,  Willie.  In  another  are  the  eldest  girl, 
Carmelita,  aged  nine,  Alva,  seven,  and  Clara, 
five.  These  three  are  my  pupils.  The  third 
room  is  the  combined  dining-room  and  sala, 
and  the  fourth  is  mine.  As  in  all  southern 
establishments,  the  kitchen,  storerooms  and 
servants'  rooms  are  detached. 

We  certainly  are  perched  on  the  side  of  a 
steep  mountain,  and  it  is  a  daily  wonder  that 
we  do  not  all  roll  off  the  place.  We  go  out, 
as  we  say,  "  to  take  a  walk";  but  what  we 


34   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

really  do  is  to  fall  down  four  hundred  feet 
and  then  climb  up  again.  We  do  this  almost 
every  day,  in  order  to  visit  "  la  casa  nueva," 
— the  new  house  —  and  watch  the  process  of 
its  construction.  The  whole  interest  of  El 
Cafetal  now  centers  around  that  casa  nueva, 
(even  Coffee  is  more  or  less  in  the  back 
ground)  and  it  is  going  to  be  the  day  of  our 
lives  when  it  is  finished  and  we  move  into  it. 

We  all  get  up  at  six  o'clock,  and  at  half 
past  six  we  have  desayuno  —  coffee,  dulce 
(sweet)  and  bread  and  butter.  By  half  past 
seven  I  have  begun  to  teach,  and  lessons  go 
on  until  twelve.  Then  Mr.  Martin  and  his 
overseer,  Don  Pepe,  a  man  half  Italian  and 
half  Colombian,  come  in  from  their  work,  and 
w'e  have  "  breakfast."  In  the  afternoon  my 
pupils  and  I  climb  up  or  down  until  we  get 
caught  in  the  rain;  then  we  break  off  huge 
banana  leaves,  and  under  the  very  excellent 
shelter  of  these  we  scurry  back  to  the  house. 
I  arrive  panting  for  breath,  and  more  or  less 
wet,  as  I  do  not  know  how  to  manage  my 
banana  leaf;  but  the  children  are  perfectly 
calm,  dry  and  unconcerned.  We  are  be 
coming  very  good  friends,  the  children  and  I. 

I  think  El  Serior  Consul  exaggerated  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR    35 

rainy  season,  though,  to  be  sure,  it  is  early 
days  yet,  and  I  have  by  no  means  lived 
through  the  worst  of  one.  The  mornings 
are  brilliant  with  sunshine  —  tropical  sun 
shine  —  and  blue  skies.  About  breakfast 
time  —  that  is,  remember,  twelve  o'clock  — 
the  clouds  begin  to  gather,  and  the  mist  rolls 
up  the  valley  until  we  cannot  see  the  nearest 
rancho,  only  a  stone's  throw  away.  Then 
the  rain  falls  heavily  for  several  hours,  but 
by  five  o'clock,  or  thereabouts,  the  sun  is  out 
again,  and  the  sunsets  are  simply  gorgeous. 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  the  signal  is  given 
for  the  men  to  stop  work.  Someone  —  gen 
erally  one  of  the  children  —  strikes  a  stone 
against  the  blade  of  an  old  hoe  that  has  been 
suspended  from  a  tree;  the  sound  reverber 
ates  like  a  Chinese  gong,  and  can  be  heard 
a  long  distance.  Then  Mr.  Martin  and  Don 
Pepe  come  home  (Don  Pepe,  by  the  way, 
sleeps  in  the  store)  and  about  six  we  have 
our  dinner.  By  the  time  the  sun  sets  the  air 
is  chill,  and  as  it  often  begins  to  rain  in  the 
evening  and  rains  all  night,  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  dampness  in  the  house,  though  I  have 
not  yet  moulded  the  fog  into  balls.  We 
have  an  open  fire  in  the  sala,  and  though  the 


36   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

chimney  smokes  dreadfully,  the  blaze  is  cheer 
ful  and  comfortable.  Mr.  Martin  says  the 
chimney  of  the  new  house  is  not  going  to 
smoke.  Ojalaf  as  the  natives  say;  which, 
being  freely  translated,  means,  Dear  me,  I 
hope  so ! 

Those  who  get  up  at  six  are  apt  to  go  to 
bed  at  nine,  and  so  we  do.  Directly  after 
dinner  the  children  are  put  to  bed.  We 
Olympians  talk  for  a  short  time  about  the 
new  house,  and  all  we  mean  to  do  therein, 
and  then  we,  too,  get  under  the  blankets  — 
two  or  three  apiece,  for  the  nights  are  cold. 

June  1 6th. 

We  had  a  caller,  yesterday.  Even  if  we 
live  in  the  woods,  we  do  have  callers.  This 
was  an  Englishman,  a  neighbor  of  ours;  — 
not  a  next-door  neighbor,  exactly,  but  one 
from  an  hacienda  not  more  than  eight  or  ten 
miles  away.  He  rode  up  on  his  mule,  dis 
mounted  at  the  corridor,  and  Mrs.  Martin 
introduced  him  to  me. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  when  it  was  made  known 
to  him  that  I  am  an  American ;  "  Ah  !  I  have 
never  been  in  the  States,  but  I  have  a  friend 
who  went  over  there  last  year." 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   37 

"Indeed?"  I  said.  Someway,  I  did  not 
exactly  like  the  tone. 

"  Yes.  He  was  a  peer,  you  know,  but  — 
er  —  not  rich.  He  went  over  —  er  —  he'd 
heard  so  much  about  American  girls,  don't 
you  know." 

"Yes?"  I  returned,  politely,  "Well?" 

"  Well,  by  Jove !  he  came  back  and  said 
that  all  the  nice  girls  he'd  met  were  poor. 
Hard  luck,  wasn't  it?'" 

"  Why?  "  I  asked,  still  politeful,  like  Mul- 
vaney. 

"  Why,  of  course,  he  couldn't  marry  'em, 
don't  you  know.  He  went  over  on  purpose 
to—" 

"  To  marry  an  heiress?  " 

"  Of  course.  You  know  how  you  —  how 
American  girls  jump  at  a  title.  He  married 
one  who  had  £200,000  in  her  own  right,  and 
would  have  more  when  her  father  died." 

"  But  I  thought  that  he  told  you  — " 

"  That  all  the  nice  girls  were  poor.  He 
did.  That's  why  I  say  it  was  hard  luck. 
The  girl  he  married  was  awfully  vulgar  — 
must  have  been,  don't  you  know,  or  she 
wouldn't  have  taken  him  for  his  title." 

This  was  too  much.     I  saw  Mrs.  Martin 


38   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

pressing  her  lips  together.  The  Englishman 
was  her  guest,  but  he  was  not  mine. 

"  She  must  have  been  vulgar,  because  she 
married  a  man  for  his  title,"  I  repeated. 
'' Well,  if  that  is  vulgarity,  what  words  will 
you  use  to  describe  the  character  of  a  man 
who  deliberately  crosses  the  ocean  to  look 
for  a  girl  with  money  enough  to  support  him, 
and  who,  having  found  her,  and  made  her  his 
wife,  returns  home  and  says  openly  that  all 
the  nice  girls  that  he  met  were  poor?  " 

Here  I  looked  at  Mrs.  Martin  and  saw 
that  she  was  encouraging  me  with  her  eyes, 
so  I  went  on, — 

"  It  is  doubtless  vulgar,  as  it  is  certainly 
wrong,  to  marry  for  any  reason  except  love. 
But,  really,  it  seems  to  me  that  of  the  two  am 
bitions,  that  of  the  girl  who  desires  a  title, 
with  all  that  that  implies  —  birth,  family,  po 
sition,  and,  supposedly,  culture  and  breeding, 
is  very  much  finer  and  less  vulgar  than  the 
ambition  of  the  man  whose  greed  is  for  money 
-  simply  money  —  nothing  higher,  and 
nothing  more." 

Mr.  Englishman  looked  positively  im 
pressed.  He  said :  "  By  Jove !  "  and 
added  that  he  had  never  thought  of  it  in  that 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   39 

way  before.  When  an  Englishman  is  nice, 
he  is  very  nice  indeed,  but  when  he  is  rude 
he  is  so  horrid  that  he  makes  the  average 
American  ashamed  of  his  ancestors. 

Another  guest  was  expected  by  us  a  few 
days  ago,  but  just  as  he  was  about  to  leave 
Santa  Marta  the  Government  demanded  his 
horse  for  the  use  of  some  officer,  and  now  he 
is  waiting  with  what  patience  he  can  for  the 
animal  to  be  returned.  Up  here  we  seem 
far  away  from  the  war,  but  it  is  going  right 
on  with  no  signs  of  an  end.  To-day  a  mozo 
brought  up  the  news  of  four  hundred  liber 
als  in  Bonda,  and  consequent  alarm  and  ex 
citement  in  Santa  Marta,  only  five  miles  away. 
I  am  glad  my  trunks  are  at  the  consulate! 
The  Government  is  seizing  every  man  it  can 
lay  its  hands  on,  so  that  it  is  not  safe  to  send 
arrieros  down.  Already  one  of  our  mozos 
has  been  taken.  An  evening  or  two  ago  a 
small  force  of  armed  men  came  from  Santa 
Marta  up  the  valley,  seizing  men  and  mules 
as  they  could  catch  them.  Sixteen  mules  and 
some  men  were  taken  from  our  nearest  neigh 
bors,  on  an  English  plantation,  three  miles 
below  us.  A  mozo  who  escaped  brought  the 
alarm  up  to  us,  and  our  men  flew  to  the  moun- 


40   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

tains,  to  spend  the  night  in  the  woods.  All 
our  mules  were  hidden,  so  that  by  the  time 
the  "  commission  "  reached  here,  as  far  as 
we  were  concerned  there  was  not  a  mozo  nor 
a  mule  in  the  world.  Mr.  Martin  says  he 
has  enough  provisions  here  on  the  finca 
(plantation)  to  last  three  months,  in  case  we 
should  be  absolutely  unable  to  keep  up  com 
munication  with  the  coast.  I  believe  my 
chief  thought  in  such  an  event  would  be 
—  mail.  The  banana  boat  comes  to  Santa 
Marta  every  fourteen  days,  so  that  the 
time  is  divided  into  mail  week  and  no 
mail  week.  However,  it  will  always  be 
safe  for  Mr.  Martin  himself  to  go  down  — 
the  Government  can  hardly  impress  an  Amer 
ican  citizen  —  and  in  an  extremity  he  could 
be  our  postman.  I  had  a  package  of  letters 
to-day,  more  than  half  of  them  from  people 
who  expected  me  home  on  the  steamer  of  six 
weeks  ago.  The  mail  was  sent  to  my  New 
York  address,  and  then  forwarded  to  me  here. 
It  was  mostly  invitations  — "  To  lunch,  Tues 
day;  "  "  To  dinner,  Thursday;  "  '  To  spend 
Sunday,"  and  so  on.  I  had,  as  I  read,  a 
queer,  mixed  feeling  of  being  almost  at  home, 
and  at  the  same  time,  very,  very  far  away. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   41 

One  letter,  Edith's,  says  that  Kent  Win- 
throp  has  gone  off  somewhere,  no  one  knows 
where,  or  what  for.  I  have  not  had  one 
word  from  him  since  the  note  he  sent  to  the 
steamer,  the  day  I  sailed  for  Liverpool. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  then.  ;'  If  you  ever 
feel  that  you  have  had  all  of  Europe  that 
you  want,  there  will  always  be  New  York  to 
come  back  to,  you  know." 

I  have  always  kept  that  note.  Once  in  a 
while  I  think  of  the  last  words,  and  they 
make  a  warm,  comfortable  sort  of  feeling 
around  my  heart — "There  will  always  be 
New  York  to  come  back  to,  you  know." 

Now,  it  seems,  Kent  himself  has  left  New 
York.  I  wonder  why. 

June  20th. 

The  next  time  I  meet  an  angel,  I  am  going 
to  say  to  her: 

"  Angel,  that  fearing-to-tread  policy  of 
yours  is  utterly  and  entirely  a  mistaken  one." 
'Why?"  she  will  demand,  with  some  as 
perity,  for  even  angels  (in  fact,  especially 
angels)  hate  to  be  told  that  they  are  in  the 
wrong— "  Why?" 

"  Because,"   I   shall   answer,   firmly,    "  be- 


42  4  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

cause  it  is  a  policy  which,  as  long  as  you  per 
mit  it  to  dictate  to  you,  will  prevent  you  from 
doing  those  things  that  you  wish  to  do  by 
making  you  believe  that  some  day  you  will 
wish  that  you  had  not  done  them." 

And  then,  to  convince  her  that  such  belief 
is  quite  unsupported  by  experience,  I  shall 
relate  the  true  tale  of  my  rushing  in. 

I  had  a  queer  dream  last  night.  I  thought 
that  the  father  of  some  acquaintances  of 
mine  in  New  York  had  died,  and  that  I, 
as  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  bereavement,  had 
called  at  the  house  and  left  my  card.  I  had 
written  one  word  on  the  card  before  handing 
it  in,  and  that  word  I  had  intended  to  be  Sym 
pathy.  To  my  horror,  however,  no  sooner 
was  the  door  of  the  house  closed,  and  I  out 
on  the  sidewalk,  that  I  knew  for  an  absolute 
certainty  that  what  I  had  really  said  had  been 
not  Sympathy,  but  —  Congratulations. 

Some  persons,  I  believe,  would  take  that 
dream  as  a  warning  that  if  they  stayed  too 
long  in  uncivilised  places  they  would  not 
know  how  to  conduct  themselves  when  once 
they  returned  to  lands  enlightened.  For  my 
part,  I  think  that  if  it  has  any  significance 
at  all,  it  points  out  what  foolish,  unmean- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   43 

ing  things  people  do  when  they  move  in  met 
ropolitan  society. 

Now  "  we  "  -  by  way  of  contrast  — 
"  we "  have  been  planting  coffee  trees  — 
22,000  of  them  during  the  past  four  days. 

Coffee-planting  time  on  a  finca  is  a  season 
not  to  be  lightly  entered  upon,  nor  to  be  lived 
through  save  by  walking  delicately,  and  taking 
much  serious  thought  for  the  morrow.  It 
is  planned  for  and  arranged  days  beforehand, 
every  circumstance  (but,  above  all,  the 
weather)  being  taken  into  consideration,  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  rendered  propitious.  We 
are  now  well  along  in  the  rainy  season,  but 
each  year,  at  about  this  time,  occurs  what  is 
called  by  the  natives  "  El  verano  de  San 
Juan  " — "  St.  John's  summer  " —  and  by  that 
they  mean  a  period  of  a  week  or  ten  days, 
within  which,  if  it  rain  at  all,  the  downfall 
is  very  slight.  To  put  in  coffee  trees  during 
El  verano  de  San  Juan  would  be  folly,  be 
cause,  unless  the  treelings  are  well  soaked 
within  twenty-hours  after  they  are  trans 
planted,  they  will  probably  die;  or,  if  they 
manage  to  live,  they  will  never  flourish.  The 
trouble  is  that  even  an  experienced  manager 
can  not  be  sure  when  the  summer  of  St.  John 


44   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

will  arrive,  for  if  it  occurred  on  schedule  time, 
it  would  not  be  a  Colombian  season.  Rain 
may  have  fallen  every  day  for  weeks ;  it  may 
be  long  before  the  verano  could  possibly  be 
expected;  and  the  manager  may  decide  that 
the  hour  for  planting  is  at  hand.  He  puts 
in  several  thousand  coffee  trees,  when,  be 
hold;  a  ten  days'  drought,  and  all  has  been 
done  in  vain. 

These  little  trees  that  Mr.  Martin  and  the 
mozos  have  been  putting  in  during  the  last 
four  days  are  the  fittest  among  thousands 
upon  thousands  that  came  up  from  seeds 
sown  in  the  nurseries  a  year  ago.  Only  the 
strongest  and  best  are  taken.  The  roots  are 
most  carefully  put  into  holes  that  have  been 
most  carefully  prepared  for  them,  and  then 
the  holes  are  most  carefully  filled  in,  that  no 
rootlet  may  be  broken  or  injured.  When 
one  considers  that  on  the  growth  and  vigor 
of  these  trees  depend  the  coffee  crops  of  the 
future,  and  that  upon  the  coffee  crops  of  the 
future  depends  the  success  or  failure  of  El 
Cafetal,  one  understands  why  planting-time 
is  taken  so  seriously. 

In  these  days  Mr.  Martin  is  up  at  four 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   45 

o'clock  (and  so  is  Mrs.  Martin).  He  has 
his  coffee  by  lamplight,  and  goes  forth  with 
his  men  long  before  sunrise.  By  daylight 
they  are  in  the  clearing,  where  over  twenty 
thousand  holes  have  already  been  dug. 
Some  of  the  men  carry  on  their  backs  great 
loads  of  the  young  trees  from  the  nurseries 
to  the  clearing,  where  others  receive  them  and 
put  them  into  the  holes,  as  I  have  said.  All 
day  long  Mr.  Martin  watches  jealously,  lest 
a  single  root  of  one  tree  be  handled  care 
lessly.  His  breakfast  is  sent  out  to  him,  for 
he  is  too  far  away  from  the  house  to  return 
at  noon.  During  the  morning  the  sun  beats 
hotly,  even  at  this  altitude;  and,  from  one  to 
four,  the  rain,  as  cold  as  the  sun  was  hot, 
comes  soaking  down.  (Ojala!  For  if  not, 
it  may  be  that  this  planting  will  have  to  be 
done  all  over  again.)  About  five  comes 
home  Mr.  Martin,  tired,  hungry,  wet  —  but 
if  wet,  then  happy — for  the  same  rain  that 
has  gone  "  a  chorros  "  down  the  back  of  his 
neck  has  fallen  on  the  ground,  and  so  soaked 
the  roots  of  the  little  trees  that  they,  three 
years  hence,  will  begin  to  bring  forth  fruit  — 
let  us  hope  one  hundred  fold. 


46       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

June  24th.,  Sunday. 

The  nearest  church  of  any  kind  is  in  Santa 
Marta,  twenty  miles  from  here.  The  nearest 
Protestant  church,  as  far  as  I  know,  is  in 
Barranquilla.  We  Cafetalanos  do  not  go  to 
church;  but  "Nature  comes,  sometimes,  and 
says,  '  I  am  ambassador  for  God !  '  Go 
ing  to  church  does  not  make  a  Sunday. 
—  I  have  had  real  Sabbaths  without  church, 
and,  in  Bogota,  real  church  with  no  Sabbath. 

Here  in  the  mountains  we  go  to  bed  on 
Saturday  nights  with  a  blessed  sense  of  an 
unlimited  sleeping  time  before  us.  As  a  mat 
ter  of  fact,  we  do  not  sleep  very  late,  but 
we  sleep  as  long  as  we  like,  and  princes  and 
potentates  can  do  no  more.  Desayuno  is 
taken  lingeringly,  in  a  large,  unhurried  at 
mosphere  of  rest;  then,  with  health  and  a 
day,  we  set  about  making  the  pomp  of  em 
perors  ridiculous. 

This  morning  we  fared  us  forth,  over  the 
plantation.  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  rode  mules, 
for  the  way  is  long  and  steep ;  but  Mr.  Mar 
tin  and  the  children,  Carmie,  Alva  and  Clara, 
walked  sturdily.  On  and  on  we  went,  slowly 
and  happily,  because  "  the  world  is  so  full  of 
a  number  of  things,"  until  at  last  we  reached 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   47 

what  is,  undoubtedly,  the  site  of  an  old  In 
dian  village.  There  is  a  large,  level  space 
where  once  were  dwellings  —  that  is  quite 
evident  from  the  quantity  of  broken  pottery 
lying  about  —  remains  of  bowls,  cooking 
utensils  and  water  jars.  In  the  centre  of  the 
area  is  lying,  embedded  in  the  earth,  so  that 
only  its  upper  surface  is  visible,  an  enormous 
flat  stone,  circular  in  shape;  and,  making  a 
complete  circle  around  it,  are  smaller  stones, 
also  flat.  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  are  tormented 
by  a  great  desire  to  know  what  it  all  means, 
and  what  is  buried  within  this  circle.  Some 
thing  there  must  be;  those  slabs  were  not  put 
there  for  nothing.  It  must  have  been  with 
some  serious  purpose  that  the  old  Indians 
cut  and  shaped  the  stones,  and  with  so  much 
labor  placed  them  as  they  are. 

If  Mr.  Martin  is  at  all  interested  in  the 
matter,  he  will  not  admit  it.  We  beg  him  to 
have  at  least  the  great  centre  stone  taken  up, 
but  he  points  out  that  to  do  so  would  be  a 
tremendous  piece  of  work,  requiring  the  time 
and  labor  of  many  mozos;  and  the  time  and 
labor  of  mozos,  he  seems  to  believe,  are  more 
wisely  employed  in  planting  coffee  trees. 

This    afternoon,    after    we  had    returned 


48   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

from  our  paseo,  had  had  a  late  breakfast  and 
were  sitting  out  on  the  corridor,  I  spoke  to 
Don  Pepe  about  my  interest  in  the  Indians 
of  by-gone  days.  He  has  travelled  all  over 
this  region,  on  mules  and  on  foot,  leagues  and 
leagues  beyond  our  valley,  and  has  lived  for 
weeks  at  a  time  with  Indian  tribes  far  in  the 
interior  —  tribes  who  scarcely  know  the 
white  man,  or  are  know  of  him.  Once,  he 
says,  he  met  an  Indian  who  told  him  that  he 
was  one  hundred  and  ten  years  old,  and  Don 
Pepe  says  the  man  certainly  looked  it.  This 
aged  red  man  had  heard  from  his  grandfather 
strange  tales  of  the  days  when  the  Spanish 
priests  first  came  to  the  land,  and  if  half  the 
things  he  told  Don  Pepe  were  true,  those 
"  fathers  "  must  have  been  a  precious  lot.  I 
got  so  excited,  hearing  about  it,  that  our  as 
sistant  actually  went  down  to  the  store  and 
climbed  up  again,  bringing  back  with  him  a 
paper,  written  in  Spanish,  in  a  fine  little  Latin 
hand.  He  handed  it  to  me,  and  this  is  a 
translation  of  what  I  read: 

"  Related  by  Teti  Florez  Izquirdo,  an  In 
dian  one  hundred  and  ten  years  old,  regarding 
the  arrival  of  the  Capuchin  fathers,  or  priests, 
to  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   49 

"  Those,  dressed  in  red,  who  have  long 
beards  and  a  tonsure  around  the  head  are 
truly  Capuchins."  (A  capuchin  is  a  South 
American  monkey,  with  the  hair  on  the  head 
aranged  like  a  cowl.)  "They  are  identical 
with  those  who,  hundreds  of  years  before 
(my  great-grandfather,  Nastuyama,  and  my 
grandfather,  Nasarumaka,  related  it  to  me, 
as  I  tell  it  to-day),  had,  besides  those  signs, 
rosaries  at  the  wabt,  together  with  a  cord 
with  knots,  and  sandals  on  their  feet.  Thus 
they  are  always  the  same,  and  perhaps  with 
the  same  ideas.  Perhaps,  in  such  case,  they 
will  again  persecute  the  Indians,  and  compel 
them  to  change  their  religion.  Again  they 
will  want  to  catch  us  with  halters  around  our 
necks,  to  force  us  to  live  in  villages.  They 
will  want,  as  they  did  then,  to  compel  us  to 
bring  them  sheep,  fish,  fowls,  eggs,  potatoes, 
onions,  and  everything  else  that  they  may  care 
to  ask  for.  If,  unfortunately,  there  are  any 
Indians  who  resist  their  demands,  they  will 
tie  us  hand  and  foot,  and  thus  they  will  cause 
us  to  approach  the  fire,  burning  the  sole  of 
the  foot  until  we  agree  to  what  they  require. 
If  by  reason  of  the  time  of  our  freedom 
there  should  be  any  strong  Indian  who  could 


50   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

endure  those  torments,  they  will  not  then  con 
tent  themselves,  but  will  call  the  other  Indians 
cowards,  because  they  are  indolent,  to  induce 
them  to  cut  more  firewood,  quantities  of  fire 
wood,  enough  to  make  a  pile  as  high  as  our 
houses.  They  will  fasten,  in  front  of  the 
church,  a  post,  and  they  will  tie  to  it  any  one 
who  has  had  strength  to  resist.  Then  they 
will  heap  around  the  post  all  the  firewood 
that  may  have  been  cut,  and  when  they  think 
that  it  is  enough,  one  of  them  will  set  fire  to 
the  wood;  another,  with  a  cross  in  his  hand, 
will  say  that  he  has  from  God  a  sickness  in 
his  body,  and  that  this  Indian  burns  in  order 
that  others  may  not  have  this  sickness  also. 
When  the  poor  Indian  begins  to  cry  and 
scream,  then  all  the  priests  begin  to  sing,  and 
keep  on  singing  until  there  remains  nothing  of 
the  Indian,  nor  of  the  post,  nor  of  the  fire 
wood —  nothing  more  than  a  pile  of  ashes. 
As  we  punish  children,  they  will  give  us 
lashes  in  the  public  square;  they  will  cut  our 
ears,  our  noses,  our  fingers  and  our  toes. 
They  will  take  away  our  sons  in  order  to  con 
vert  them,  and  our  women  will  suffer  the 
same  punishments  as  ourselves.  Know, 
therefore,  that  not  one  of  us  may  esteem  these 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   51 

greybeards.  The  best  that  could  happen 
would  be  that  they  die  of  hunger,  or 
that  they  would  go  away.  No  Indian  would 
permit  himself  to  sell  them  food,  or  to  give 
them  water;  he  who  would  do  that  would  con 
sider  himself  an  enemy  to  his  race,  and  the 
good  God  would  punish  him  in  his  own  time. 
They  will  begin  as  sheep  and  they  will  end 
as  tigers.  They  will  commence  by  giving  us 
medals  which  value  nothing,  and  figures 
painted  on  paper;  then,  little  by  little,  they 
will  collect  all  they  have  given  us,  and  will 
end  by  consuming  everything  we  have.  No 
one  may  approach  the  place  where  they  live, 
that  they  may  manage  for  themselves.  As 
to  their  eating  and  drinking,  water  there  is 
in  the  river,  and  food  the  earth  gives;  he  who 
will  may  plant  and  eat.  From  us  they  shall 
not  have  one  blade  of  grass.  So  let  it  be." 

This  is  quaint  reading,  but  must  have  been 
very  serious  living,  I  should  think.  As  to 
the  priests'  singing  and  continuing  to  sing 
while  the  poor  Indian  was  burning,  it  makes 
me  think,  with  a  shudder,  of  one  morning  in 
Santa  Marta,  before  I  came  up  here.  I  was 
calling  on  Mrs.  Anson,  who  lives  close  to 
the  cuartel  or  barracks,  when  suddenly  there 


52       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

was  a  great  flourish  of  trumpets,  and  then 
loud,  crashing  music  by  the  military  band.  If 
it  had  been  in  Bogota  I  should  have  thought 
that  the  liberals  had  won  a  victory,  for  the 
Government  always  sent  up  consolation  fire 
works,  and  made  a  great  show  of  music  and 
parades  whenever  they  had  been  defeated. 
But  in  Santa  Marta  I  was  puzzled.  Mrs. 
Anson  listened  attentively,  then, — 

"Do  you  know  what  that  means?"  she 
asked,  with  a  queer  expression  on  her  face, 
—  a  little  frightened  and  a  great  deal  indig 
nant. 

"No,"   I  answered,    "What?" 

"  They  are  whipping  some  soldiers  in 
there  "  —  pointing  to  the  cuartel — "  and  the 
music  is  to  drown  their  cries.  Whenever 
that  tune  is  played  we  understand  what  is  go 
ing  on !  " 

Sunday  evening  Mrs.  Martin  usually  tells 
Bible  stories  to  the  children  in  their  own 
room.  To-night,  for  some  reason,  Alva 
elected  to  stay  in  the  sala  with  me.  When  I 
first  came,  the  children  spoke  only  Spanish, 
though  they  understand  English  when  they 
hear  it.  I  have  been  trying  to  encourage 
them  to  use  their  mother  tongue,  and  the  re- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   53 

suit  is  that  in  their  conversations  with  me 
the  mixture  of  languages  is  sometimes  very 
funny. 

"  Yo  soy  baby;  porqtie  tu  no  sing?"  (I 
am  a  baby;  why  don't  you  sing  to  me?)  be 
gan  Alva,  to-night,  after  she  had  climbed  into 
my  lap,  as  I  sat  in  a  big  chair  in  front  of  the 
open  fire.  The  seven-year-old  "  baby "  is 
very  fond  of  being  petted  and  sung  to. 

So  I  began  with  "  Rock-a-bye,  Baby," 
which  she  particularly  fancies,  especially, 

"  And  down  will  come  Baby,  cradle  and 
all." 

When  I  had  finished, — 

"  Ahora,  los  -pigitos"  (Now  the  little  pigs) 
she  demanded. 

I  knew  what  that  meant,  so,  taking  her 
hand,  I  began  in  the  time-honored  way,  bend 
ing  down  her  thumb,  and  saying, 

"  This  little  pig  went  to  market," 
Then  the  forefinger, — 

'  This  little  pig  stayed  home," 
But  here  I  was  interrupted. 

"En  espanol"  (In  Spanish)  said  my  Baby. 

Fancy  "  This  little  pig  went  to  market," 
in  Spanish !  However,  I  rushed  in,  as  usual, 
and  began  a  literal  translation.  I  think  there 


54   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

were  chuckles  from  Don  Pepe,  smoking  out 
on  the  corridor. 

Este  marranito  se  fue  al  mercado, 

Este  marranito  quedo  en  casa, 

Este  marranito  tenia  roast  beef, 

Este  marranito  no  tenia  nada, 
Este  marranito  grit 6,  "  Wee  !  wee  !  wee  !  " 

"  A  si  gritan  los  pigitos?  "  (Is  that  the  way 
pigs  cry?)  asked  Alva,  as  I  finished. 

"  Why,  yes1,"  I  told  her.  "  Haven't  you 
ever  heard  the  little  pigs  squealing?" 

"Si  (yes),  but  no  in  English.  Aqm 
gritan  en  espafiol."  (Here  they  cry  in  Span 
ish). 

In  the  pause  that  followed  my  laugh,  her 
attention  was  caught  by  something  her  mother 
was  saying  to  the  other  children,  in  the  ad 
joining  room,  and  she  announced,  suddenly, 

"  Yo  no  quiero  die."  (I  don't  want  to 
die.) 

"Why  do  you  say  that,  little  one?"  I 
asked,  holding  her  close.  "  You're  not  go 
ing  to  die  just  yet,  I  hope." 

"But  sometime?"  she  persisted. 

"Why,  yes;  sometime." 

"Y  donde  voy  yo,  puesf  "  (and  where 
shall  I  go,  then?) 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   55 

"  To  the  cielo,"   (heaven)   I  told  her. 

"Not  in  the  ground,  like  Fido?"  (Fido 
was  a  pet  dog  who  died.) 

"  Your  body  will  go  into  the  ground,"  I 
tried  to  explain;  "but  the  part  of  you  that 
thinks  and  feels  and  talks  will  come  out  of 
your  body  and  go  up  to  the  cielo." 

She  considered  this,  and  then  asked, 

"  And  shall  I  still  be  little  Alva?  " 

I  told  her  "  Yes,"  because  I  think  so. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  said,  Quien  sabef 

Her  next  question  was, 

'  Where  are  your  papa  and  your  mama?  " 

"  In  the  cielo." 

"  Are  there  many  people  in  the  cielo?  " 

"  Oh,  yes;  a  great,  great  many." 

"  Who  takes  care  of  them?  " 

"Why  Dios  (God)  takes  care  of  them, 
dear." 

Her  notions  of  being  taken  care  of  relate 
chiefly  to  shelter,  food  and  raiment,  and  she 
said,  next, 

'  Where  does  Dios  get  enough  houses,  and 
things  for  them  all  to  eat,  and  dresses  for 
them?" 

I  felt  unequal  to  unfolding  the  conception 
of  an  immaterial  cielo }  so  I  said,  only, 


56   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  Oh,  you  know  Dios  can  do  anything. 
He  has  plenty  of  everything  that  he  wants  to 
give  to  the  people." 

"  He  must  be  very  rich,"  she  commented, 
thoughtfully.  Then  followed  a  deduction, 
logical,  inevitable.  In  her  world  there  is  one 
thing  and  one  thing  only  that  makes  for 
wealth. — 

"  Entonces  tendra  montones  de  cafe! " 
(Then  He  must  have  mountains  of  coffee!) 

Wednesday,  2jth. 

Who  would  have  supposed  that  a  day  as 
quiet  and  peaceful  as  Sunday  would  have  been 
followed  by  one  as  exciting  and  turbulent  as 
Monday  was? 

I  was  teaching  Carmelita  in  my  room.  I 
had  asked  her  to  give  me  the  plural  of  ox, 
and  she  had  said  "  Bulls,"  with  entire  con 
viction.  I  am  afraid  I  made  rather  a  botch 
of  my  correction ;  —  at  any  rate,  her  attention 
wandered,  and  she  began  to  look  out  of  the 
window,  and  to  be  interested  in  what  was  go 
ing  on  por  afuera. 

"Carmelita,"  I  said,  reprovingly;  "never 
mind  what  they  are  doing  outside.  Attend 
to  what  I  am  trying  to  explain  to  you." 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   57 

Just  then  we  heard  a  confused  noise  as  of 
children  crying,  and  a  servant  ran  past  the 
window. 

"  Something  is  the  matter!"  exclaimed 
Carmelita,  and  started  up  from  her  chair. 

I  supposed  that  Willie  had  fallen  off  the 
corridor,  or  that  Clara  had  stepped  on  a  nail, 
or  that  Alva  had  burned  her  hand  making  a 
sancocho.  These  are  all  incidents  of  our 
daily  life,  and  always  produce  excitement; 
but  I  saw  no  reason  why  the  disturbance 
should  interrupt  Carmelita's  lesson. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  said,  again,  primly,  and 
in  my  most  disciplinary  tone.  '  It  does  not 
matter  what  is  happening.  While  I  am 

teaching  you,  even  if  the  house  is  on  fire,  you 
»» 

At  that  instant  Mrs.  Martin  simply  flew 
into  the  room. 

"  The  kitchen  is  on  fire !  "  she  panted. 
"  Oh,  come!  Come,  quick!  " 

We  ran,  teacher  and  taught,  out  of  the 
door,  into  a  scene  of  wildest  excitement  and 
confusion. 

The  kitchen,  storeroom  and  servants' 
rooms  are  detached  from  the  main  house,  but 
are  yet  so  near  that  a  fire  in  one  means  immi- 


58   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

nent  danger  to  the  other.  Although  Mrs. 
Martin  had  called  us  on  the  instant,  by  the 
time  I  got  outside,  the  kitchen  roof  was  a 
sheet  of  flame.  The  roof  is  of  palm  thatch, 
like  that  of  the  main  house,  and  it  was  burn 
ing  like  an  autumn  bonfire  of  dead  leaves. 

With  presence  of  mind,  the  first  thing  Mrs. 
Martin  did  was  to  give  the  alarm  by  having 
the  gong  sounded  —  the  old  hoe  blade,  ham 
mered  with  a  stone.  This  is  done  only  at 
noon  and  at  night,  for  the  men  to  stop  work, 
so  that  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  its  un 
timely  clamor  meant  something  seriously  out 
of  the  ordinary.  In  an  incredibly  short  time 
Mr.  Martin  came  tearing  up  the  hill  on  a 
mule,  and  following  him,  running,  came 
mozos  and  mozos.  There  is  only  one  ladder, 
and  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  had  it  up  by  the  time 
the  men  got  to  us.  They  swarmed  onto  the 
roof,  and  began  hacking  at  the  thatch  with 
their  machetes,  and  throwing  burning  bundles 
of  palm  down  to  the  ground.  We  women 
scattered  these,  pouring  on  water  and  stamp 
ing  out  the  fire.  In  less  than  an  hour  the 
danger  was  over.  The  kitchen  was  without 
a  roof;  of  course,  some  things  had  been 
broken,  and  household  furnishings,  hastily 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR    59 

carried  out,  lay  in  confusion  all  over  the  place. 
But  that  was  all.  The  fire  had  not  been  al 
lowed  to  spread,  and  even  the  despensa 
(storeroom)  and  servants'  rooms  were  un 
touched.  That  very  afternoon  men  with 
mules  went  into  the  woods,  and  cut  new  poles 
for  the  framework  of  the  roof  and  great 
bundles  of  palm  for  thatch,  and  to-night 
everything  is  finished  and  in  order  again. 

There  were  no  lessons  yesterday  or  this 
morning,  for  we  have  all  been  rather  upset, 
and  busy  putting  things  to  rights.  There 
has  been  no  occasion,  therefore,  again  to  re 
buke  Carmelita  for  inattention. 

One  other  thing  happened  Monday  morn 
ing:  in  the  midst  of  the  fire  a  new  personality 
came  into  my  life.  Entered  El  Sefior  Don 
Roberto  Alvarez. 

I  have  said  that,  as  the  thatch  was  cut 
away  from  the  roof,  it  was  thrown  to  the 
ground  in  great,  burning  masses;  and  that 
these  were  instantly  seized  upon  by  us  below, 
broken  up,  scattered  and  extinguished.  I 
had  an  old  broom  handle  for  a  thresher,  and 
with  it  I  laid  about  me  vigorously  —  per 
chance  too  vigorously. 


For,  suddenly,  there  was  a  presence  at  my 
elbow,  and  a  voice  saying  to  me,  impera 
tively,— 

''  Don't  throw  that  burning  stuff  down  the 
bank !  The  fern's  as  dry  as  tinder,  and  you'll 
start  another  fire  if  you  don't  mind!  " 

I  looked  up  and  saw  two  intense  brown 
eyes,  and  a  hand  stretched  out  to  take  my 
broom  handle  away  from  me,  as  from  one 
unfit  to  be  trusted  with  it  another  moment. 
The  owner  of  the  eyes  and  the  hand  was 
a  man  whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  nor 
even  heard  of;  and  even  yet,  though  I  now 
know  who  he  is,  I  do  not  know  how  he 
got  there.  I  suppose  he  must  have  been 
riding  near,  have  heard  our  alarm,  or  seen 
the  smoke,  and  come  quickly  to  our  as 
sistance.  Anyway  there  he  was,  giving  me 
orders  in  an  English  more  English  than  an 
English  English,  but  in  a  voice  which  I  in 
stantly  knew  had  never  been  born  in  Eng 
land. 

Mrs.  Martin  has  since  told  me  everything. 
El  Senor  Don  Roberto  Alvarez  was  born  in 
Bogota.  When  he  was  five  years  old,  polit 
ical  differences  of  opinion  were  the  cause  of 
his  father's  taking  the  whole  family  to  Paris, 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR    61 

where  they  are  to  this  day.  In  the  mean 
time,  however,  Don  Roberto  was  educated 
mostly  in  Devon  —  hence  his  English.  Three 
years  ago  he  came  back  to  his  native  land, 
unaccompanied,  except  by  a  letter  of  intro 
duction  from  his  father  to  the  father's  old 
friend,  the  owner  of  "  Vista  Linda,"  an 
hacienda  below  us  in  this  valley.  There 
Don  Roberto  was  taken  on  at  first  as  a  work 
ing  pupil  with  no  salary,  and  then,  as  he 
began  to  know  coffee,  as  assistant  with  small 
salary.  Now  he  is  manager,  drawing  some 
thing  like  $100  a  month.  In  time,  either 
his  father  will  buy  "  Vista  Linda,"  which 
is  for  sale,  or  Don  Roberto  will  denounce 
land  further  on  up  the  valley,  and  begin  to 
make  a  new  plantation  for  himself. 

In  the  meantime,  he  is  our  neighbor  —  as 
neighborhood  goes  in  the  Sierra  Nevadas  — 
and  though  I  do  not  quite  like  being  told 
that  I  can  not  be  trusted  with  an  old  broom 
handle,  yet  I  have  always  admired  intense 
brown  eyes,  and  I  find,  now,  that  a  certain 
un-English  rolling  of  the  "  r "  in  Seriorita 
may  be  very  attractive. 


'July  6th. 

WE  have  "  been  down  "  —  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Martin,  Don  Roberto  and  I. 
We  came  up  yesterday. 
Last  Monday   morning,    in   the   midst   of 
lessons,  La  Nina  Eva  appeared  at  the  door, 
with  a  note  in  her  hand. 

'  This  has  just  come,"  she  said,  gayly 
waving  the  paper.  "  It  is  from  Mrs.  Anson, 
and  we  are  invited  to  spend  the  Fourth  in 
Santa  Marta." 

(Mrs.  Anson  is  the  wife  of  that  Mr. 
Anson  who  said  "Good  Lord!"  when  I 
told  him  I  had  come  to  this  part  of  the  world 
for  pleasure.) 

"Are  we  going?"   I  asked,   breathlessly. 

"  Of   course   we    are    going,"   paid    Mrs. 

Martin.     "  You,  and  Mr.  Martin  and  I  — " 

At  that  moment  the  tramping  of  a  mule's 

hoofs   was   heard,    as   someone    rode   up    to 

the  corridor.     We  looked  out,  and  there  was 

Don   Roberto. 

62 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   63 

"  I  can't  stop  a  moment,"  he  called  to  us. 
Then  he  dismounted,  came  into  the  sala,  and 
stayed  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

"  Of  course  you're  all  going  down  to  the 
Ansons'  paranda,"  he  began  the  moment  we 
were  seated. 

"  We  have  just  this  moment  had  Mrs. 
Anson's  note,"  answered  Mrs.  Martin,  "  but 
we  have  already  decided  to  accept.  Are  you 
going?  "  This  last  was  superfluous,  for  go 
was  written  all  over  him. 

"  Well,  rather!  "  he  said.  "  That's  what 
I  came  up  about.  Can't  we  all  go  down 
together?  What  time  will  you  start?" 

"  Oh,  you  know  Mr.  Martin,"  laughed 
Mr.  Martin's  wife.  "  If  he  has  his  way, 
we'll  be  off  by  moonlight.  He  likes  to  get 
down  before  it's  hot,  and  before  the  rain 
begins." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  seven  the  next 
morning  when  we  rode  away  from  the  house. 
We  left  Don  Pepe  in  charge  of  the  finca, 
and  domestic  matters  with  Juana  and  Andrea 
—  two  women  who  have  been  the  children's 
nurses  and  are  devoted  to  them.  Don  Ro 
berto  appeared  for  coffee  at  half  past  six. 
As  we  had  to  pass  "  Vista  Linda  "  on  the 


64   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

way  down  the  valley  he  might  have  waited 
to  join  us  at  his  own  front  door,  but  he  did 
not,  so  there  were  four  of  us,  riding  single 
file,  besides  an  arriero  on  foot,  driving  the 
cargo  mule  with  our  luggage. 

We  went  down  in  less  than  five  hours,  and 
we  did  not  get  wet,  so  one  of  Mr.  Martin's 
desires  was  fulfilled;  but  as  for  the  other, 
by  the  time  we  reached  the  plain  the  sun  was 
scorching.  We  crossed  the  river  (I  am  al 
ways  so  relieved  when  I  get  safely  over  a 
river,  for  once  I  heard  of  a  mule  that  lay 
down  and  rolled,  in  the  middle  of  a  stream, 
perfectly  regardless  of  the  rider  on  its  back), 
went  on  for  an  hour  or  more  under  the  dark 
green  of  the  mango  trees,  and,  about  noon, 
rode  into  Santa  Marta.  It  had  been  nearly 
a  month  since  I  had  left  that  town  to  come 
up  into  the  woods,  and  as,  when  I  first  went 
there  from  Bogota  and  Barranquilla,  the 
place  seemed  about  as  large  as  a  toy  village, 
I  was  immensely  surprised,  on  Tuesday,  to 
find  it  looking  like  a  metropolis. 

It  really  ought  not  to  be  small,  for  cer 
tainly  it  is  not  young.  I  wonder  if  places 
are  ever  sensitive  about  their  age.  I  am  so 
fond  of  Santa  Marta,  and  it  has  always  been 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   65 

so  nice  to  me,  that  I  should  hate  to  hurt 
its  feelings  by  any  remarks  concerning  the 
number  of  seasons  —  I  mean  rainy  and  dry 
seasons  —  that  it  has  been  before  the  public. 
Such  things,  however,  are  only  matters  of 
comparison,  and  I  remember,  now,  that  when 
I  spoke  of  the  antiquity  of  Santa  Marta  to 
one  of  the  officers  of  the  "  Adirondack  "  — 
of  course  a  German  —  he  said,  "Himmel! 
Fraiilein,  that  is  not  old !  "  At  any  rate,  it 
is  said  to  be  the  oldest  existing  town  in  the 
Western  Hemisphere,  founded  by  the  Span 
iards  in  1525.  It  was  already  fifty  years  old, 
when  —  as  Kingsley  tells  us,  in  "  Westward 
Ho!"  the  Bishop  of  Cartagena  sat  in  the 
cabin  of  his  great  galleon,  sipping  wine  cooled 
"  in  a  pail  of  ice  from  the  Horqueta,"  and 
gazing  out  on  "  the  bay  of  Santa  Marta, 
rippling  before  the  land  breeze,  one  sheet  of 
living  flame."  "  Golden  tropic  sea,"  de 
scribes  Kingsley;  "and  the  golden  tropic 
evenings,  by  the  shore  of  New  Granada,  in 
the  golden  Spanish  Main."  It  is  very  like 
that,  as  one  sits  on  the  Ansons'  balcony,  look 
ing  off  on  the  water,  the  Morro,  and  (on  a 
curve  of  the  shore)  the  ruins  of  Drake's 
Fort. 


66       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

The  Ansons  live  in  a  perfectly  enormous 
house  that  was  once  a  monastery.  The  patio 
is  all  arcaded,  and  as  we  rode  into  it,  on 
Tuesday,  and  I  saw  it  again,  after  a  month, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  it  looked  larger  and 
quainter  and  more  Ferdinand-and-Isabella- 
like  than  ever. 

We  were  the  last  to  arrive  of  the  house 
party.  Think  of  a  house  party  in  Santa 
Marta !  If  the  old  monks  have  been  look 
ing  down  on  their  monastery,  lately,  they 
must  have  been  amazed;  and,  as  I  dare  say 
monks  are  not  very  different  from  other  per 
sons,  I  shouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  they  have 
been  rather  envious  as  well. 

In  the  first  place,  there  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Anson  and  Baby  —  the  last  being  Mr.  An- 
son's  sister,  aged  eighteen  —  years,  not 
months.  The  Ansons  are  Americans,  but  I 
believe  they  lived  for  a  time  in  Canada; 
anyway,  somehow  or  other  Baby  was  edu 
cated  in  a  convent  in  Montreal,  and  the  result 
is  the  most  delectable  combination  of  Amer 
ican  girl  and  French  novice  that  one  could 
wish  to  see.  Why  Don  Roberto  is  not  in 
love  with  Baby  is  more  than  I  can  under 
stand.  Of  course  it  may  be  that  he  is,  but 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR       67 

in  that  case  I  should  not  think  he  would  — 
I  mean,  if  he  is,  one  would  suppose  that  he 
would  pay  her  more  attention.  Perhaps 
it  is  because  young  Mr.  Hunter  does  not  give 
him  a  chance;  yet  Don  Roberto  seems  to  be 
a  man  who  would  not  ask  to  have  chances 
given  to  him,  but  would  rather  say,  like 
Napoleon,  "Opportunities?  I  make  oppor 
tunities!"  Mr.  Hunter  is  another  one  of 
our  neighbors  up  here  in  the  mountains;  that 
is,  he  is  "  learning  coffee  "  on  a  plantation 
("  La  Ventura  ")  in  the  next  valley  to  ours. 
The  Ansons  have  a  little  place  —  a  country 
house,  so  to  speak  —  in  the  same  valley,  not 
more  than  half  an  hour  by  mule  from  "  La 
Ventura,"  and  they  are  up  there  a  great  deal 
of  the  time.  Harry  Hunter  is  an  English 
man  (but  not  the  one  who  called  here  the 
other  day ! ) ,  and  he  is  so  shy  —  and  so  hand 
some  —  that  I  really  do  not  know  how  Baby 
has  the  heart  to  tease  him  as  she  does.  The 
American  girl  part  of  her  goes  to  such 
lengths,  sometimes,  that  the  Britisher's  head 
tells  him  he  ought  to  disapprove  of  her. 
Then  the  demure  little  novice  comes  to  the 
fore,  and  it  is  not  an  English  head,  but  just 
a  man's  heart  that  is  at  all  concerned  in  the 


68   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

matter.  I  am  perfectly  sure  he  tells  himself 
dozens  of  times  that  she  is  too  flippant,  too 
independent,  too  —  in  short,  too  American. 
Then,  more  dozens  of  times,  he  does  not 
analyse  her  at  all,  but  simply  feels  that  she 
is  the  sweetest  girl,  American  or  English, 
that  he  will  ever  know.  And,  really,  she  is 
not  flippant  at  all,  and  not  so  very  independ 
ent,  if  he  only  knew  it.  I  am  not  sure 
whether  she  cares  for  him  or  not,  but  as  she 
is  so  young  I  am  afraid  his  chances,  for  the 
present  at  least,  are  not  very  good.  Amer 
ican  girls  seldom  make  their  life's  decision 
at  eighteen;  they  are  usually  having  so  good 
a  time  at  that  age  that  they  want  to  feel 
that  they  are  free  to  keep  on  having  good 
times  for  a  number  of  years  yet. 

Well  —  but  I  was  naming  the  house  party. 
We  were,  then,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anson,  Baby, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  and  governess  (me, 
Constance  Parnell),  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell 
(Manager  and  Mrs.  Manager  of  "  La  Ven 
tura"),  Don  Roberto,  Harry  Hunter,  Mr. 
Manners  —  the  disagreeable  Englishman  — 
only,  of  course,  he  is  not  always  disagreeable 
—  and  one  more,  to  whom  I  am  going  to 
give  several  lines  in  a  few  moments.  All 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   69 

these  were  staying  in  the  house.  Others  of 
the  small  Santa  Marta  foreign  colony,  as, 
for  instance,  El  Serior  and  La  Sefiora  Consul; 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  British  Consul;  Mr.  Cunning 
ham,  of  the  United  Fruit  Company,  and  so 
on,  were  more  or  less  interested  in  Fourth 
of  July,  as  the  case  might  be. 

As  for  the  "  One  More  "  of  our  house 
party  —  of  all  persons  in  the  world,  it  was 
Kent  Winthrop ! 

It  was  the  very  afternoon  of  our  arrival 
in  Santa  Marta  that  the  "  Adirondack " 
came  in.  We  could  see  the  steamer  when 
it  was  still  far  outside  the  Morro,  and  when 
it  came  to  anchor  at  the  dock,  we  were  all 
there  to  meet  it,  to  get  our  mail.  The  gang 
plank  was  thrown  out,  the  few  passengers 
went  down  it  as  we  went  up,  and  there,  in 
the  middle,  Kent  and  I  came  face  to  face, 
both  too  surprised  to  speak.  I  must  do 
him  the  justice  to  admit  that  he  has  not  fol 
lowed  me  here  to  South  America ;  —  he  was 
quite  as  honestly  amazed  as  I  was.  He  is 
always  honest.  I  will  admit  that,  also. 

It  was  Mr.  Anson  who  said  the  first  word. 

"  Why,  hello,  Winthrop !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  thought  you  weren't  coming  till  the  next 


70   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

steamer.  Awfully  glad  to  see  you,  just  the 
same.  Just  wait  till  we  get  the  mail,  and 
we'll  go  back  to  the  house.  This  is  my 
wife,  whom  you've  never  met.  And  this  is 
Miss  Parnell  — Oh  --!" 

Kent  and  I  interrupted  him  by  finding  our 
tongues,  and  exclaiming,  simultaneously, — 

"Are  you  here?" 

It  seemed  to  me  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  that  I  was  there,  although  of  course 
I  can  realize  that  it  was  the  last  place  in 
the  world  in  which  Kent  would  have  expected 
to  see  me.  The  strange  part  of  it,  to  me, 
was  his  presence  in  Santa  Marta,  though  now 
that  it  has  been  explained,  I  know  that  he 
really  had  much  more  reason  to  be  there 
than  I  had.  He,  at  least,  did  not  come  for 
pleasure,  and  Mr.  Anson  did  not  say  "  Good 
Lord!"  to  him.  Mr.  Anson,  in  fact,  was 
the  cause  of  Kent's  being  there.  How  queer 
it  is  that  those  two  men  were  at  college 
together,  and  that  I  should  have  known  one 
of  them  so  well,  and  never  have  heard  of  the 
other  till  I  came  to  Santa  Marta,  two  months 
ago.  It  seems  that  they  have  written  to  each 
other,  now  and  again,  and  that,  through  Mr. 
Anson,  Kent  has  been  interested  in  Coffee 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   71 

much  longer  than  I  have.  And  now  —  he 
has  come  down  here  to  look  into  the  matter 
for  himself,  and  if  he  is  satisfied,  he  is  going 
to  buy  land  and  begin  a  plantation ! 

As  we  walked  back  to  the  house  from  the 
steamer,  Kent  said  to  me : 

'When  did  you  leave  Europe?" 

"  A  year  and  a  half  ago,"  I  told  him. 

"A  year  and  a  half  ago!"  he  repeated; 
—  "  Then  how  long  were  you  there?  " 

"  Less  than  six  months." 

Here  an  Expression  came  into  his  eyes.  I 
cannot  describe  it;  I  can  only  write  it  with 
a  capital  E. 

"Why?"  he  questioned,  "didn't  you  — 
wasn't  it  all  that  you  expected?  " 

"  Oh,  quite,"  I  assured  him,  hastily.  "  But 
I  had  a  good  opportunity  to  come  to  South 
America,  and  I  thought  I  could  see  Europe 
another  time,  and  so  I  went  to  Bogota." 

1  You  have  been  in  South  America  for 
over  a  year,  then." 

"  Yes." 

"And  now?" 

"  Now  I  am  a  governess,  on  a  coffee  plan 
tation,  up  in  the  mountains." 

He  looked  at  me,  without  speaking,   for 


72        COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

what  seemed  minutes  and  minutes.  Then  — 
that  appears  to  be  the  general  impression  that 
I  make  on  the  men  whom  I  meet  —  he  said, 
exactly  as  Mr.  Anson  had  done, — 

"Good  Lord!" 

I  wonder  if  I  am  too  fond  of  travel.  I 
asked  Don  Roberto,  that  evening,  as  we  sat 
on  the  deck  of  the  "  Adirondack,"  happen 
ing  to  be  a  little  apart  by  ourselves. 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  reassured  me,  warmly. 
'That  is  one  thing  that  makes  you  so  differ 
ent  from  most  women."  (I  had  not  known 
that  he  thought  me  different  from  most 
women;  that  is,  I  had  not  been  sure.) 
'Travel  is  broadening.  I  like  it,  myself, 
better  than  almost  anything  else  in  the  world. 
Fancy,"  he  said,  "  if  you  hadn't  cared  for 
travel,  you  would  not  be  here  now !  " 

How  very  expressive  brown  eyes  are  I 
Kent's  are  grey. 

Wednesday  Was  the  Fourth.  The  An- 
sons  had  planned  a  picnic  to  San  Pedro, 
where  is  the  house  in  which  Bolivar  died. 
It  is  the  place  to  which  El  Serior  Consul 
drove  me  the  day  that  he  suggested  my  go 
ing  to  the  mountains  as  governess,  never 
thinking  that  I  should  take  him  seriously. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   73 

This  time  almost  all  of  our  party  of 
twenty  rode  mules.  We  started  quite  early 
in  the  morning,  had  a  gay  picnic  lunch,  with 
toasts  and  speeches,  and  then  some  one  sug 
gested  riding  on  to  Wasca.  Kent  was,  of 
course,  the  only  one  of  us  to  whom  an  In 
dian  village  was  not  an  old  story,  for  though 
I  had  never  seen  Wasca  before,  I  had  seen 
innumerable  mud  huts  between  the  coast  and 
Bogota.  But  El  Serior  Consul  said  there 
might  be  some  wild-pigeon  shooting;  Kent 
was  eager  to  go;  I  wanted  to  see  the  ruins  of 
the  old  Spanish  Church  that  I  had  heard  of, 
and,  in  the  end,  every  one  went. 

The  church  was  really  worth  while,  though 
there  is  so  little  left  of  it  now.  The  roof 
is  gone,  except  in  one  corner,  where  the  altar 
was,  and  the  walls  are  in  ruins.  It  was 
over  in  the  altar  corner  that  I  found,  lying 
on  the  ground,  nearly  covered  by  debris,  some 
pieces  of  old  carved  wood.  I  picked  up  one 
block,  about  eight  inches  square,  and  an 
nounced  that  I  was  going  to  take  it  away 
with  me. 

"Indeed  you  are  not!"  declared  El 
Serior  Consul.  '  These  people  wouldn't  al 
low  it  for  one  moment." 


74   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"What  people?"  I  asked.  "Do  you 
mean  these  savages?"  I  waved  my  hand 
to  include  the  two  rows  of  huts,  and  the  half 
naked  population.  '  You  can't  mean  that 
they  value  antiques  and  pieces  of  old  carv- 
ing!" 

"  Well,  no,"  admitted  El  Senor  Consul, 
smiling;  —  "not  as  antiques  and  pieces  of 
old  carving.  But  they're  superstitious  to  the 
last  degree,  and  they  would  expect  the 
heavens  to  fall  on  them  if  they  allowed  any 
one  to  carry  off  a  splinter  of  what  was  once 
a  church.  You  are  not  the  first  person  who 
has  wanted  the  stuff,"  he  informed  me. 
'The  consul  from  Barranquilla  came  over 
here  to  see  the  church,  and  he  went  simply 
wild  over  these  carvings.  He  offered  to  buy 
the  whole  lot,  but  the  people  wouldn't  hear 
of  it.  They  certainly  won't  let  you  have 
any." 

This  seemed  to  me  absurd.  If  there  were 
any  sacrilege  about  the  matter,  it  was  in  leav 
ing  those  delightful  old  bits  lying  there  on 
the  ground  —  the  floor  of  the  church  is  all 
gone  —  in  the  midst  of  every  kind  of  rub 
bish,  to  become  worm-eaten  and  broken,  and 
doing  no  one  a  particle  of  good.  If  I  took 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   75 

one  of  the  pieces,  it  would  at  least  be  kept, 
for  the  future,  where  it  would  be  preserved 
and  appreciated. 

"  They  are  not  going  to  be  asked,"  I  said, 
replying  to  El  Serior  Consul's  last  remark. 
Then  I  calmly  picked  up  my  block  and 
walked  with  it  down  the  one  street,  in  full 
view  of  the  entire  population,  and  no  one  said 
as  much  as  Caramba!  The  carving  is  now 
here,  on  the  mantel  shelf,  in  our  sola. 

I  have  said  that  the  people  of  Wasca  are 
half-naked  savages.  Yet  in  one  of  the  huts, 
no  different  from  the  others,  there  is  living 
an  educated  white  man.  We  were  going 
away  from  the  church,  towards  our  mules, 
Mr.  Anson  and  I  walking  together,  when 
a  man,  who,  I  am  perfectly  sure,  was  born 
a  gentleman,  came  to  the  doorway  of  one  of 
the  mud  houses,  and  spoke  to  Mr.  Anson 
in  English.  Mr.  Anson  stopped,  and  nat 
urally,  so  did  I.  At  first,  I  supposed  that 
this  man,  an  Anglo-Saxon,  and  by  every 
tone  of  his  voice  a  gentleman,  was  someone 
who  was  passing  through  Wasca,  just  as  we 
were.  Then  —  I  don't  quite  know  how  —  I 
realized  that  he  was  at  home  there.  There 
is  only  one  room  in  each  of  those  huts,  and 


76   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

from  where  we  stood,  in  the  doorway,  I 
could  not  help  seeing  the  whole  interior  of 
the  house.  An  Indian  girl  was  cooking  some 
thing  over  the  stone  fire-place  in  the  corner; 
on  the  mud  floor,  a  little  child  about  two 
years  old  sat  playing  with  a  gourd  drinking 
cup;  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  held 
some  papers  and  a  book  or  two;  —  except 
for  these  last,  it  was  a  native's  home,  pure 
and  simple.  The  situation  told  its  own 
story. 

I  walked  on,  but  almost  immediately  Mr. 
Anson  overtook  me.  For  a  moment  or  two 
neither  of  us  spoke. 

"  Well,"  he  said  presently,  looking  at  me 
with  a  smile;  "are  you  shocked,  Miss  Par- 
nell?  One  has  to  get  used  to  that  sort  of 
thing  down  here,  you  know." 

"  No ;  "  I  shook  my  head.  "  I  don't  think 
'  shocked  '  is  what  I  am  feeling." 

"What,  then?"  he  queried.  "You  are 
feeling  something  rather  profoundly,  I  gather 
from  your  face." 

"  I  was  thinking,"  I  said,  "  thinking  — 
that  it  is  such  a  pity!  " 

"  Oh !  "  responded  Mr.  Anson,  in  a  tone 
that  asked  for  further  information. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR       77 

"  I  am  sure  he  feels  it  himself,"  I  went 
on,  following  my  own  thoughts. 

"Feels  what?" 

"  Didn't  I  hear  him  ask  you  for  new  mag 
azines?  " 

"  Very  likely.  He's  always  keen  about 
them.  What  then?  " 

"  There  were  some  books  on  the  table, 
too." 

Mr.  Anson  made  a  gesture  as  of  one  be 
fogged.  "  My  dear  Miss  Parnell,"  he  ap 
pealed,  "  what  are  you  getting  at?  " 

"  An  educated  man,"  I  explained,  "  a 
gentleman  —  living  like  that  - 

Mr.  Anson  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It 
is  rather  a  throwing  away  of  good  material," 
he  owned.  "  The  man  has  deteriorated 
awfully  in  three  years. —  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  about  this  place,"  he  declared,  "  that 
seems  to  drag  young  men  into  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  suppose  most  of  'em  can't  afford 
a  wife,  so  they  take  what  they  can  have. 
They  don't  usually  go  into  it  quite  as  deep 
as  this  chap,  though.  As  a  rule  it's  pour 
passer  le  temps,  and  then  they  go  home  and 
get  married." 

"Fancy  marrying   a   man   like   that!"    I 


78   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

uttered  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment;  then 
instantly  wished  I  had  kept  silence. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Anson,  just  as 
I  knew  he  would.  u  What  do  you  say,  Miss 
Parnell?" 

"  I  am  sorry  I  said  anything,"  I  returned, 
vexedly.  "  I  couldn't  possibly  make  you  un 
derstand." 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  he  expostulated.  "  Don't 
say  that.  Put  it  as  simply  as  you  can,  and 
I'll  try  to  follow  you." 

I  knew  he  was  smiling,  inside,  but  I  had 
foolishly  commenced,  and  there  was  nothing 
but  to  follow  up  my  indiscretion. 

;'  Well  —  suppose,"  I  said,  "  suppose  a 
man,  with  this  man's  experience,  does  go 
home,  as  you  say,  and  get  married.  How 
do  you  think  he  feels  when  the  first  baby 
comes  to  him  and  his  wife?  " 

"  How  does  he  feel  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  An 
son,  evidently  surprised.  "  Why,  I  don't 
know.  Just  the  way  any  other  man  feels, 
I  suppose." 

"How  can  he?"  I  contested.  "Oh,  I 
know  what  you  men  say. —  That  this  sort 
of  thing  is  only  an  incident;  that  a  man 
doesn't  love  an  Indian  girl;  that  it  is  a  differ- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   79 

ent  sort  of  feeling,  altogether.  That  when 
he,  afterward,  marries  a  girl  in  his  own  class, 
he  truly  cares  for  her,  just  as  if  the  Indian 
girl  had  never  existed. —  Perhaps  he  does, 
but—" 

"But  what?"  insisted  Mr.  Anson,  as  I 
hesitated. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  such 
a  man  defrauds  his  wife  of  something  that 
every  woman  has  a  right  to  claim.  When 
their  baby  comes  he  can't  feel  about  it  as  she 
does.  It  doesn't  mean  to  him  what  it  does 
to  her.  He  can't  sympathise  with  her  in 
the  feeling  of  awe  and  solemnity  that  must 
come  with  the  first  realization  of  parentage. 
How  could  he?  He  has  been  through  it  all 
before.  He  has  already  held  his  first  child 
in  his  arms.  You  know  it  can  never  be  the 
same  again." — 

I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Anson  would  have 
said;  I  was  glad  there  was  no  opportunity 
for  him  to  say  anything.  For,  luckily,  we 
came  to  the  mules  at  that  moment,  and  Don 
Roberto  hurried  forward  and  helped  me  to 
mount. 

We  went  on  from  Wasca  towards  the 
electric  light  plant.  Mud  huts  and  electric 


80   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

light !  How  the  white  man  carries  his  civ 
ilisation  about  with  him.  Near  the  plant 
El  Senor  Consul  shot  the  first  iguana  I  ever 
saw,  and  of  all  the  nightmare-ish  creatures! 
It  was  in  a  tree,  and  though  mortally 
wounded  by  the  shot,  it  had  life  enough,  as 
it  fell,  to  clutch  at  a  branch  and  hang  there 
for  several  minutes  before  it  dropped  into 
the  little  stream  below.  They  say  people 
eat  those  things.  For  my  part,  "  I'd  rather 
let  starvation  wipe  me  slowly  out  o'  sight." 
In  the  cool  of  the  late  afternoon  we  rode 
back  to  "  town,"  and  afterward  we  were  all 
entertained  at  dinner  at  the  British  Consulate, 
where  the  English  and  the  American  flags 
were  intertwined.  In  the  evening  we  went 
on  board  the  "  Adirondack  "  and  there  were 
fireworks,  but  I  could  not  realize  that  we 
were  celebrating  the  Fourth  of  July.  The 
search-light  of  the  steamer  swept  over  Santa 
Marta,  lingered  on  the  old  Spanish  Cathe 
dral,  turned  the  white  houses  into  glittering 
palaces,  and  the  surrounding  cocoanut  palms 
into  waving,  shadowy  plumes.  Then  the 
brilliance  was  thrown  over  the  bay,  the 
Morro,  and  the  ruins  of  the  fort;  and,  far 
from  caring  anything,  at  that  moment,  for 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   81, 

the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  I  sat  dreaming 
myself  back  over  three  hundred  years,  to 
the  days  of  the  Conquistadores  —  their  treas 
ure  and  their  galleons.  "  That,  after  all, 
is  the  great  thing  about  travelling,"  says 
Maud  Howe;  "you  visit  not  only  different 
countries,  but  different  ages." 

I  remembered  this,  and  it  was  then  that 
I  questioned  Don  Roberto  as  to  my,  perhaps, 
over-fondness  for  seeing  the  world.  He  an 
swered  as  I  have  said,  and  then,  as  if  he  had 
felt  my  thoughts  of  the  moment  before,  he 
began  to  talk  of  the  old  Spaniards,  and  to 
tell  me  stories  of  their  treasure. 

'  You  know,"  he  reminded  me,  "  those  old 
chaps  had  to  leave  this  country  in  a  great 
hurry,  but  undoubtedly  they  expected  to  re 
turn.  They  buried  or  hid  their  loot,  and  after 
all,  they  never  came  back  for  it.  It's  here  yet, 
lots  of  it.  Have  you  heard  of  the  man  who 
excited  so  much  comment  in  Santa  Marta, 
by  his  coming  and  his  going,  a  year  or  so 
ago?" 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  I've  been  told  quantities 
of  treasure  stories,  especially  in  the  interior 
—  Honda  is  full  of  them  —  but  I  never 
heard  that  one." 


82   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  It's  really  nothing  definite.  It  was  just 
after  I  came  back  here,  from  England.  A 
man  —  a  Spaniard  —  the  real  thing  — 
landed  here  one  day  from  Barranquilla,  hav 
ing  come  by  the  Royal  Mail.  He  brought 
two  big  trunks  with  him,  and  the  men  who 
handled  the  trunks  say  they  were  empty. 
Well,  he  went  to  the  hotel  and  took  a  room, 
and  stayed  in  it  a  whole  day,  looking  at  some 
papers  and  making  drawings  —  at  least  so 
the  muchachas  (maids)  say.  Then  he  got 
a  mule  cart,  put  his  two  empty  trunks  on 
it,  and  went  off,  somewhere,  entirely  alone. 
He  was  gone  a  day  and  a  night.  He  came 
back  with  his  trunks,  and  this  time  two  men 
apiece  could  hardly  lift  them.  He  left  for 
Baranquilla  by  the  next  boat,  trunks  of 
course  with  him,  and  that  was  the  last  that 
was  ever  heard  of  him." 

"But  what  was  in  the  trunks?"  I  cried, 
much  excited. 

"  Quicn  sabef  But  everyone  here  be 
lieves  that  the  man  was  a  descendant  of  one 
of  the  Conquistador es,  and  that  he  had  the 
key  to  some  treasure  hidden  by  his  ancestors. 
They  say  he  just  came  with  his  papers,  lo- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   83 

cated  the  secret  spot,  and  then  sailed  off 
with  the  gold." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Do  you  care  what  I  think?  "  questioned 
Don  Roberto. 

The  next  morning,  that  is,  yesterday  morn 
ing,  we  left  Santa  Marta  at  six  o'clock,  and 
were  back  here  at  El  Cafetel  for  breakfast. 
The  trip  up  is  much  pleasanter  than  the  one 
going  down,  because  coming  this  way  the  air 
grows  fresher  and  fresher,  and  the  latter 
part  of  the  journey,  when  one  is  apt  to  be 
tired,  is  taken  through  the  crisp  coolness  of 
the  mountains.  Who  would  be  in  New 
York,  hanging  onto  the  strap  of  a  crowded 
cable  car,  who  could  have  a  mule  to  himself, 
in  the  Sierra  Nevadas? 

Kent,  of  course,  is  still  with  the  Ansons. 
I  suppose  he  will  stay  there  until  he  decides 
whether  or  not  to  buy  land.  If  I  were  a 
man,  I  should  like  to  have  affairs  that  are 
connected  with  land.  Up  to  this,  I  have 
wanted  to  be  an  ambassador  at  some  im 
portant  foreign  court,  but  now  I  know  that 
I  should  prefer  the  life  of  an  agriculturist. 


84   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Mr.  Martin  laughed  when  I  said  this  last 
night  at  dinner,  and  asked  me  why  I  didn't 
go  in  for  market  gardening. 

"  I  suppose  I  might  have  a  garden  here," 
I  said,  "  but  where  is  the  market?  " 

"  Why,  Santa  Marta,"  returned  Mr.  Mar 
tin,  instantly.  "  I  never  knew  a  place  more 
in  need  of  fresh  vegetables." 

It  is  true  that  I  have  never  seen  a  blade 
or  a  leaf  of  one  there,  and  that  Mrs.  Anson 
and  the  other  foreign  housekeepers  are  con 
stantly  bewailing  the  impossibility  of  escape 
from  tinned  peas  and  asparagus. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?"  I  demanded 
of  Mr.  Martin.  "  I  think  it  would  be  the 
most  interesting  thing  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Well,  as  to  that,"  demurred  the  man  of 
!  experience,  "  I  have  my  doubts.  It  is  hard 
work,  you  know. —  Isn't  it?  "  he  appealed  to 
Mrs.  Martin. 

"  It  is  hard  work,"  conceded  La  Nina 
Eva,  reluctantly.  (Never  was  a  woman  less 
given  to  wet-blanketing  one's  propositions.) 
"  But  I  like  it,"  she  added,  immediately; 
"  and  quien  sabe  whether  Miss  Parnell 
wouldn't  find  it  interesting?  Try  it  and  see," 
she  advised,  turning  to  me. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   85 

"  Where  could  I  have  my  garden?  "  I  then 
wanted  to  know.  Already  I  was  full  of  en 
thusiasm. 

"  Down  by  the  new  house.  We'll  be  there 
so  soon  now,  that  it  wouldn't  be  worth  while 
to  start  anything  up  here.  We'll  go  to-mor 
row  and  pick  out  a  place."  Mrs.  Martin 
was  as  eager  as  I  about  it,  while  Mr.  Martin 
laughed  at  us  both  and  said  that  he  gave 
me  until  the  first  time  I  got  thoroughly  wet 
to  change  my  mind. 

"  I  shall  work  while  the  sun  shines,"  I 
declared,  piously. 

"  Then  you'll  be  eaten  alive  by  -plaga"  he 
retorted. 

Plaga  is  a  sort  of  gnat  whose  sting  makes 
little  red  spots  all  over  one's  hands,  or  wher 
ever  it  bites.  We  are  very  little  troubled 
by  it  up  here,  but  further  down  it  is  a  pest, 
and  even  at  this  altitude  it  is  bad  where  there 
is  much  vegetation. 

But  plaga  or  no  plaga,  wet  or  dry,  I  in 
tend  to  have  a  garden.  Mrs.  Martin  and  I, 
and  all  the  children  went  down  this  afternoon 
and  picked  out  the  ground,  just  below  the 
new  house,  where  I  can  get  to  it  in  two  min 
utes  after  we  move.  I  am  writing  by  this 


86       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

mail  to  New  Orleans  for  seeds,  and  until  they 
come,  Mrs.  Martin  is  going  to  let  me  borrow 
from  her. 

July  l$th. 

Mr.  Martin  went  to  Santa  Marta  two  days 
ago,  and  on  his  return,  he  brought  Mr.  An- 
son  with  him.  When  I  saw  Mr.  Anson  I 
rather  looked  for  Kent,  also;  but  the  latter, 
it  seems,  has  gone  to  Barranquilla  for  a  short 
time,  on  business. 

Our  guest  stayed  only  a  few  hours,  as  he 
was  going  to  spend  the  night  on  another 
plantation;  but  before  he  left  he  admitted 
that,  for  once,  something  entertaining  has 
occurred  in  the  dull  little  town  on  the  coast. 
Both  he  and  Mr.  Martin  were  full  of  the 
story  when  they  rode  up  to  the  house  yes 
terday  just  at  noon,  and  they  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  breakfast  hour  in  telling 
it,  with  laughter  and  shouts  of  reminiscence, 
to  Mrs.  Martin  and  me. 

"  We  had  been  playing  billiards  all  the 
evening,"  Mr.  Martin  said,  "  until  about 
eleven  o'clock,  when  we  went  to  bed.  I'd 
been  asleep  about  an  hour  when  I  woke  up, 
suddenly,  and  heard  loud  voices  out  in  the 
street." 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   87 

"  Loud!  Rather!  "  emphasized  Mr.  An- 
son.  '  They  would  have  wakened  the 
dead!" 

"  Well,  I  jumped  up  and  went  out  onto 
the  balcony  to  see  what  the  matter  was,  and 
an  instant  later  Anson  hurried  out  after  me, 
from  h;":  room." 

''  In  my  pajamas,"  supplied  Mr.  Anson, 
smiling  broadly. 

"  Both  of  us  in  our  pajamas,"  supple 
mented  Mr.  Martin,  grinning. 

"  We  leaned  over  the  railing  of  the  bal 
cony,"  Mr.  Martin  went  on;  "and  down 
there  in  the  street  were  four  men  —  three 
patrols,  and  one  of  the  German  officers  from 
the  steamer.  Those  little  boy  soldiers  had 
the  officer  by  the  arm,  and  they  were  trying 
to  drag  him  over  to  the  barracks,  while  he 
was  trying  his  best  to  get  away.  The  Ger 
man  evidently  didn't  know  a  word  of  Span 
ish,  and  certainly  the  patrols  didn't  know 
any  German  or  English,  yet  they  were  hurl 
ing  defiance  at  one  another  at  the  top  of  their 
lungs." 

"  They  were  too  excited  to  notice  us,"  Mr. 
Anson  chuckled,  "  till  I  called  down  to  them, 
'I  -ay!  What's  the  trouble?'  Then  they 


88   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

looked  up,  and  —  what  absurd  thing  was  it 
the  big  Dutchman  said  to  us,  Martin?  " 

'  For  God's  sake,  can't  you  make  these 
savages  understand  who  I  am?' 

"Oh,  yes;  exactly.  And  you  said,  'Cer 
tainly,'  as  affably  as  if  he'd  asked  you  for  a 
.match ! 

'  Well,  we  called  down  to  the  patrols, 
'Hi,  there!  Your  prisoner's  a  German 
officer,  and  you'd  better  be  careful  how  you 
interfere  with  him.'  And  they  sputtered 
back  that  they  didn't  care  who  he  was;  that 
he  ought  not  to  be  in  the  streets  at  that  time 
of  night  without  a  passport." 

"  Wasn't  it  then  that  Hunter  and  Cunning 
ham  came  out?  "  interrupted  Mr.  Martin. 

"Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Anson.  "They 
came  out  on  their  balcony  next  door,  and 
called  out  to  us,  '  What's  the  row  ?  ' 

"  We  began  to  tell  them,  but  as  soon  as 
the  German  officer  saw  them,  he  broke  in, 
praying  them  to  do  something  for  him  —  in 
heaven's  name  to  do  something! " 

"  We  could  see  Cunningham  grinning." 
Mr.  Martin  took  up  the  story;  but  he  leaned 
over  his  balcony  and  suggested  a  compro 
mise. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   89 

"  *  You'd  better  offer  to  pay  a  fine,'  he  ad 
vised.  '  That  will  probably  satisfy  'em.' 

"  'Fine !  '  roared  the  German  —  he  was 
wild  with  rage  -  '  They've  already  taken 
everything  I  have,  down  to  my  penknife, 
and  they're  not  satisfied.  They  want  to  put 
me  into  their  barracks  for  the  night.'  ' 

"Oh!  Wasn't  he  furious?"  recalled 
Mr.  Anson,  with  relish. 

"  Rabid.  But  no  wonder.  He  calmed 
down  a  little,  though,  and  said.  '  I  insist 
upon  seeing  the  mayor.' 

"  '  The  Alcalde's  either  asleep  at  this  time 
of  night,  or  else  he's  amusing  himself,'  Cun 
ningham  told  him.  *  In  either  case  he 
wouldn't  trouble  about  you  until  morning.' — 
Then  what  happened,  Anson?" 

"  Oh,  then  the  patrols  cut  it  short,  and 
began  to  drag  the  officer  away.  Do  you 
remember  how  he  shook  'em?  " 

"  Don't  I?  Exactly  as  a  big  dog  would 
shake  three  little  ones.  But  they  were  three 
to  one,  and  they  held  on.  Off  they  went, 
the  officer  making  remarks  that  sounded  any 
thing  but  pious. 

'  Then  Hunter  said,  *  I  say !  It's  awfully 
funny,  but  it's  a  jolly  outrage,  you  know.' 


90   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

'  Let's  go  over  and  rout  out  the  Com- 
andante,'  Cunningham  suggested. 

'  He's  as  bad  as  the  rest  of  'em,'  we  told 
him,  and  Cunningham  said,  'Oh,  of  course; 
but  he  might  not  care  about  having  it  known.' 

''Well, —  of  course  Hunter  and  Cunning 
ham  were  in  their  pajamas,  exactly  as  we 
were  — " 

Our  story-tellers  stopped  to  laugh  and 
choke;  but  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  would  have 
none  of  it. 

"  Never  mind,"  we  said,  hastily.  "  Never 
mind.  What  did  you  do?" 

"  We  went  after  them,"  gurgled  Mr.  An- 
son.  '  The  four  of  us !  All  in  pajamas ! 
Full  moonlight!  Everything  as  bright  as 
day!  Oh!—" 

"  Just  at  the  door  of  the  barracks  we 
caught  up  with  them,"  Mr.  Martin  managed 
to  go  on,  "  and  we  all  went  in  together. 
The  anteroom  was  lighted,  but  there  was  no 
one  there. 

'  Call  your  Comandante,'  Cunningham 
said  to  the  three  patrols. 

"  '  He's  asleep,'  they  objected. 

"  '  Wake  him  up,'  Anson  ordered. 

"  One  of  the  boys  went  out,  and  we  heard 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   91 

sounds  of  knocking  on  a  door  opening  off  the 
patio.  In  a  minute  or  two  the  Comandante 
came  in  —  of  course  in  sleeping  costume. 
Then  we  had  pink  pajamas  and  light  blue 
pajamas  and  pale  grey  pajamas--!  forget 
the  two  other  colors,  but  they  were  there,  and 
altogether  it  was  a  very  pretty  assortment. 
The  Comandante  was  still  half  asleep;  the 
officer  was  almost  choking  with  fury;  the  boy 
patrols  looked  uneasy.  As  for  us  —  our 
idea  was  to  appear  stern  and  uncompromis 
ing,  but  the  effect  would  have  been  better 
if  we'd  had  time  to  smooth  our  hair." 

At  this,  it  was  I  who  interrupted  the  story. 
I  pictured  Mr.  Cunningham  and  Mr.  Hunter, 
both  Englishmen,  both  most  conventional 
and  proper,  in  a  court  room  at  midnight, 
arrayed  in  pajamas  of  variegated  pastel 
shades,  countenances  solemn  and  judicial,  but 
hair  in  the  disorder  of  their  pillows.  For 
the  first  time  in  my  life  I  laughed  till  I  cried. 
Only  my  burning  desire  to  hear  the  end  of 
the  tale  finally  stopped  me. 

"  There  isn't  much  more,"  Mr.  Anson 
said,  "  but  I'll  tell  that,  because  it  was  Mar 
tin  who. did  it.  Well,  as  we  told  you,  the 
Comandante  came  in.  He  bowed  as  if  he 


92   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

were  in  ordinary  evening  clothes,  and  he  said, 
'  Buenos  noches  '  as  if  the  time  had  been  nine 
o'clock  instead  of  nearly  one. 

"  We  all  said,  '  Buenos  noches'  very  po 
litely,  but  then  Martin  took  things  into  his 
own  hands. 

"  '  Look  here,'  he  said,  addressing  the 
Comandante  with  great  dignity,  while  he 
waved  a  pale-blue  arm  towards  the  three 
little  patrols; —  'your  men  have  arrested  a 
foreign  officer.' 

'  The  officer,  by  the  way,  was  in  full  uni 
form,  and  by  contrast  with  the  rest  of  us  he 
looked  an  emperor  at  the  very  least.  Also, 
he  was  still  muttering  terrible  things  in  his 
own  language.  The  Comandante  looked  at 
him  and  began  to  wake  up. 

'I,'  he  stammered;-  'we  have  our 
orders.'  This  idea  seemed  to  give  him  con 
fidence.  '  The  Serior  was  in  the  street  after 
the  hour  of  nine,  without  a  passport.  He 
will  be  detained  here  until  morning,  when  he 
will  be  taken  before  the  Alcalde.' 

"  I  saw  Martin's  eyes  begin  to  get  glittery. 
—  Yes  they  were  -  he  insisted,  at  Mr. 
Martin's  protest.  "  I  didn't  know  what  you 
might  be  going  to  do  next." 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   93 

"  Nonsense!  "  said  Mr.  Martin.  "  There 
was  only  one  thing  to  do." 

"What?"  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  demand 
ed. 

"  Tell  that  rascal  to  make  his  young 
thieves  give  back  everything  they'd  taken 
from  the  officer's  pockets." 

'  You  gave  the  Comandante  orders  as  to 
what  he  should  say  to  his  own  men?  "  I  asked, 
interestedly. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Did  the  Comandante  do  what  you  told 
him?" 

"  Of  course  he  did,"  Mr.  Anson  answered 
the  question.  "  He  even  put  on  an  air  of 
being  shocked  and  scandalized,  though  we 
knew  very  well  he  would  have  shared  in  the 
loot.  Then  he  began  to  babble  something 
about  a  passport,  again,  and  the  Alcalde,  and 
a  fine;  but  Martin  cut  him  short. 

'  You  will  be  kind  enough,'  Martin  said 
to  the  German  officer,  '  to  pay  a  fine  of  two 
dollars.  That  lets  you  out  of  any  possible 
complication.  For  the  rest,  I  take  all  the 
responsibility.'  ' 

(Mrs.  Martin  beamed  at  her  husband, 
approvingly.) 


94   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"Well;  the  officer  paid  the  fine,  and  for 
the  first  time  stopped  swearing. 

'Then  Martin  bowed  ceremoniously  to 
the  Commandante,  and  the  Comandante 
bowed  to  Martin.  Everyone  said,  '  Buenos 
noches'  with  great  courtesy,  and  then  we  five 
foreigners  went  out  together  —  two  Amer 
icans  and  two  Englishmen,  in  pajamas,  and 
one  German  officer  in  full  uniform!  Oh, 
my  soul!  It  was  funny!" 

"Did  anyone  see  you,  in  the  streets?" 
Mrs.  Martin  and  I  asked,  as  we  all  laughed 
together. 

"  Not  a  soul.  There  was  no  one  about. 
The  officer  went  off,  most  thankfully,  to  his 
ship,  and  the  rest  of  us  went  home  to  bed, 
nobody  the  wiser." 

July  20th. 

This  is  Independence  Day  in  Colombia  — 
the  day  corresponding  to  our  Fourth.  No 
one  on  the  finca  is  paying  the  slightest  atten 
tion  to  it  (I  doubt  if  one  of  the  mozos  knows 
what  day  it  is),  and  I  hardly  think  the  occa 
sion  is  being  observed  in  Santa  Marta.  Last 
year  I  spent  the  Twentieth  in  Bogota,  and 
owing  to  the  revolution  there  was  no  celebra- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   95 

tion  of  any  kind.  There  were  exciting  ru 
mors,  during  the  week  or  two  preceding,  that 
great  political  events  were  to  take  place  on 
that  day:  Marin,  the  negro  liberal  general, 
proclaimed  that  he  meant  to  spend  the  Twen 
tieth  in  the  national  capital.  But  nothing 
happened,  except  that  food  became  nearly  as 
high  as  if  there  were  an  actual  siege,  and  poor 
people  starved.  On  the  nineteenth,  I  remem 
ber,  I  went  to  see  my  dentist,  who  was  an 
ardent  liberal,  and  as  I  was  leaving  he  told  me 
to  come  in  again  the  next  day.  '  The  Twen 
tieth  of  July  ?  "  I  reminded  him.  *  You  won't 
be  in  your  office  to-morrow,  will  you?" 
"  To-morrow  and  every  day  till  this  govern 
ment  falls,"  he  said  fiercely.  '  We  are  not 
in  peace  and  I  feel  very  little  like  celebrating 
a  holiday.  Come  to-morrow !  "  -  I  am  so 
glad  I  was  not  born  a  Colombian. 

It  often  frightens  me  to  think  how  differ 
ently  things  might  have  turned  out  if  some 
trifling  incident  had  not  happened  to  make 
them  eventuate  as  they  did.  It  is  awesome 
to  consider  that  one  little  step  to  the  right 
or  to  the  left,  one  decision  made  unthinkingly, 
even  a  chance  action  of  some  person,  who, 
otherwise  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 


96       COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

one's  life,  may  turn  a  scale  in  one  direction 
or  another,  and  bring  about  results  the  most 
stupendous.  If  I  had  not  gone  to  just  the 
pension  in  Switzerland  that  I  did,  I  should 
not  have  met  the  Caravallos,  and  almost 
certainly  should  never  have  seen  South  Amer 
ica.  Again,  when  I  was  in  Barranquilla,  ex 
pecting  to  take  the  next  steamer  for  New 
York,  it  happened  that  that  next  steamer 
was  the  only  one  of  the  month  which  stopped 
at  Kingston  on  the  way  up;  for  this  reason 
every  berth  had  been  engaged  before  it 
reached  Colombia,  and  there  was  no  place  for 
me.  So  then,  when  I  found  I  should  have 
to  wait  over  another  week  if  I  sailed  from 
Barranquilla,  I  decided,  rather,  to  go  to  Santa 
Marta  and  take  the  banana  boat  from  there; 
and  the  only  reason  that  I  did  not  leave  on 
the  banana  boat  was  that  I  happened  to  say 
to  El  Serior  Consul  that  I  was  longing  to 
experience  a  coffee  plantation.  It  is  an  old, 
old  question,  to  what  extent  these  things  are 
arranged  for  us  before  we  are  born,  and  how 
much  we,  ourselves,  have  to  do  with  them; 
yet,  even  where  doctors  have  disagreed,  I  can 
not  help  turning  my  mind,  modestly,  to  the 
question's  consideration.  Suppose  I  had  not 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   97 

gone  to  that  pension?  There  were  many, 
many  others.  Suppose  it  had  been  any  one 
of  the  three  steamers  each  month  that  do 
not  stop  at  Kingston?  Or  suppose  I  had 
not  mentioned  coffee  to  El  Serior  Consul? 
All  this  has  been  brought  to  my  mind  by  the 
thought  of  how  very  near  I  was  to  not  having 
a  garden.  There  was  only  my  remark  in 
regard  to  being  an  agriculturist:  I  might  quite 
as  easily  have  spoken  of  monkeys.  I  under 
stand  Maeterlinck  to  say  that  the  future  Is 
just  as  much  a  fact  as  the  past.  In  that 
case,  the  garden  was  just  as  much  a  fact  two 
weeks  ago  as  it  is  to-day.  But  if  Mr.  Mar 
tin  had  not  suggested  a  garden?  If  I  had 
not  chanced  to  mention  agriculture?  — 

The  next  morning  after  Mrs.  Martin  and 
I  went  down  the  hill  and  picked  out  the  piece 
of  ground,  Mr.  Martin  let  me  have  Fran 
cisco,  and  for  nine  days  after  that,  excluding 
Sundays,  I  paid  the  man  fifteen  Colombian 
paper  dollars  a  day  to  work  for  me.  The 
result  is  satisfactory  in  the  superlative  de 
gree.  I  have  a  kitchen  garden  of  ten  beds, 
each  about  twenty-five  feet  long  by  four  wide, 
the  whole  enclosed  by  a  wire  fence  against 
Mrs.  Martin's  chickens.  In  the  beds  I  have 


98   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

sowed  seeds  of  beans,  peas,  beets,  cabbages, 
and  white  and  red  Bermuda  onions.  Also,  I 
have  filled  one  bed  with  slips  from  La  Nina 
Eva's  tomato  plants.  Now  I  am  impatiently 
waiting  for  the  seeds  to  show  above  ground, 
and  full  of  envy  of  Jonah,  whose  gourd  came 
up  in  a  single  night.  In  the  meantime  I  have 
ordered  four  barrels  of  potatoes  from  the 
States;  when  they  come  they  are  to  be 
planted  off  in  one  of  the  clearings,  as  there 
is  not  enough  vacant  land  by  the  house. 

I  shall  be  so  glad  when  we  are  in  the  new 
house  and  near  my  garden;  now  I  have  half 
an  hour's  climbing  to  do  every  time  I  plant 
a  bean.  La  Casa  Nueva  is  getting  on  finely, 
and  we  expect  to  move  in  about  the  first  of 
August.  The  outside  framework  of  the 
house  is  nearly  "  mudded  up  " ;  the  cement 
floors  are  being  made  on  the  rooms  of  the 
lower  story,  and  the  roof  is  shingled.  We 
are  going  to  have  ceilings,  so  there  will  be 
no  more  rats  dropping  onto  my  bed  from  the 
rafters. 

Almost  every  part  of  the  new  house  has 
been  made  here  on  the  plantation.  The 
shingles  are  split  from  the  wood  of  trees 
cut  in  our  own  forests;  the  doors  and  win- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   99 

dow-frames  are  made  by  our  carpenters;  all 
the  planks  for  the  flooring  of  the  rooms  up 
stairs  are  sawed  out  here,  and  even  the  bricks 
for  the  chimney  and  the  fireplace  are  of  home 
manufacture.  Really,  the  only  things  that 
I  can  think  of  at  this  moment  that  are  im 
ported  are  the  glass  for  the  window  panes 
(no  longer  will  the  fog  come  rolling  in,  thick 
enough  to  be  moulded  into  balls!),  the  ce 
ment  for  the  lower  rooms  and  the  corridors; 
and  the  hinges,  locks  and  window  catches. 
We  are  even  to  have  native-made  furniture 
after  the  house  is  finished  and  the  carpen 
ters  can  turn  their  attention  to  tables  and 
chairs. 

The  Sunday  after  we  returned  from  "  the 
Anson's  paranda"  Don  Roberto  came  up  to 
take  me  orchid  hunting.  This  is  not  the 
part  of  Colombia  for  the  best  and  rarest 
orchids,  but  there  are  some  here  in  the  forest 
that  would  be  considered  beautiful  in  the 
north,  and  I  wanted  to  send  them  to  my 
brother,  at  home.  It  was  certainly  good  of 
me  to  do  this,  for  I  had  the  most  awful 
experiences  trying  to  bring  a  box  of  orchids 
and  other  tropical  plants  when  I  came  from 
Bogota  to  the  coast  —  so  awful  that  I  vowed, 


ioo     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

then,  never  willingly  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  an  orchid  again.  One  of  the  men  of 
our  party  brought  a  parrot  and  I  brought 
orchids;  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  gave 
the  more  trouble,  but  the  parrot  died  first. 
If  I  ever  have  an  enemy,  I  shall  try  to  get 
him  to  travel  for  weeks,  in  war  time,  through 
the  tropics,  on  mules  and  on  boats  and  on 
trains,  with  plants  that  must  be  watered,  and 
must  not  be  too  wet,  and  can  not  be  put  in 
the  sun,  when  there  isn't  any  shade.  I  can 
see  that  box  of  orchids,  now,  falling  off  the 
mule's  back  with  the  rest  of  the  cargo,  the 
mule  rolling  over  and  over  and  kicking  every 
thing  to  pieces;  Mr.  Adams  shouting  at  the 
arrlero  to  put  that  small  box  under  the  suit 
case  so  that  the  sun  would  not  shine  on  it;  and 
the  arrlero  swearing  at  the  mule  and  the  or 
chids  and  the  parrot  and  us,  impartially. 
"  Mula  sin  vcrguenzaf "  (Mule  without 
shame)  he  would  shout,  wrathfully,  and  the 
shameless  mule  would  scramble  to  its  feet, 
have  its  eyes  blindfolded,  meekly  allow  itself 
to  be  re-cargoed,  and  promise  to  be  good  till 
the  next  time. 

But  that  was  six  months  ago,  and  so  much 
has  happened  in  the  meantime  that  I  have 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      101 

become  soothed  and  calm  on  the  orchid  sub 
ject,  and  when  Don  Roberto  said  he  knew 
where  there  were  very  fine  ones,  I  somehow 
felt  entirely  willing  to  go  and  get  them. 

We  rode  mules,  of  course,  and  we  went 
across  the  valley  in  a  cut  through  the  forest 
that  is  seldom  used,  and  in  most  places,  is 
no  more  than  a  trail.  In  one  spot,  however, 
it  broadens  out  to  a  width  of  about  six  feet, 
and  it  was  there  that  we  saw  the  snake. 
Such  a  snake!  More  than  a  snake;  it  was  a 
boa  constrictor.  I  was  riding  ahead,  when, 
as  I  say,  the  trail  opened  out,  and  across  it, 
exactly  in  front  of  me,  almost  under  my 
mule's  forefeet,  was  slowly  gliding  an  enor 
mous  serpent.  I  was  so  startled  that  it  may 
have  appeared  to  me  much  larger  and  longer 
than  it  was,  but  Don  Roberto,  who  hastily 
rode  to  my  side  when  I  stopped  and  cried 
out,  says  it  really  was  a  monster  and  one  of 
the  largest  snakes  ever  seen  in  the  Sierra 
Nevadas.  When  we  first  saw  it  in  front  of 
us,  its  head  was  already  out  of  sight  in  the 
forest  on  one  side  of  the  trail,  and  as  we 
stopped  there  and  watched  it  ripple  across 
the  path,  it  seemed  minutes,  and  surely  was 
a  great  many  seconds,  before  its  tail  emerged 


102     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

from  the  fern  on  the  other  side  and  finally 
disappeared.  When  I  was  in  Bogota,  an 
Indian  hunter  came  to  the  Caravallos'  house 
one  day  with  what  I  thought  was  a  great  roll 
of  matting.  It  was  about  one  yard  wide,  and 
there  was  such  a  bundle  of  it  that,  as  the 
man  held  it  under  his  arm,  it  reached  from 
his  armpit  to  his  fingers.  He  put  it  down 
on  the  corridor  and  unrolled  it  away  from 
him  as  a  salesman  exhibits  a  piece  of  carpet, 
and  then  I  saw,  to  my  wonder  and  delight, 
that  it  was  a  dried  snake  skin  —  a  yard  wide, 
as  I  have  said,  and  quite  twenty  feet  long. 
The  man  had  brought  it  for  me  to  buy,  but 
it  was  so  enormously  bulky  that  I  was  afraid 
I  should  never  be  able  to  get  it  home,  so 
I  refused  to  take  it,  and  have  been  sorry  ever 
since.  Of  course  our  snake  of  Sunday  was 
not  as  large  as  that,  but  it  was  quite  the  big 
gest  one  I  ever  saw  alive,  and  I  wish  I  could 
have  had  its  skin.  If  Don  Roberto  had  had 
a  chance  to  get  at  its  head  he  might  have 
cut  it  off  with  his  machete,  but  it  was  im 
possible  to  follow  the  thing  into  the  forest, 
and  to  have  slashed  at  its  tail  as  it  crossed 
the  road  would  have  been  madness :  —  we 
should  "  have  scotched  the  snake,  not  killed 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      103 

it."  So  it  is  gone.  It  was  really  a  beauty, 
and  I  am  glad  I  saw  it. 

We  went  on,  and  got  a  great  many  orchids, 
though  none  that  were  like  those  I  saw  in 
the  interior.  As  we  rode,  I  told  Don  Ro 
berto  my  plan  for  a  garden.  But  I  had 
hardly  begun  when  he  broke  in,— 

"  But,  Seriorita  "  (he  always  calls  me 
Senorita,  rolling  the  r  like  a  Spaniard,  while 
the  rest  of  his  speech  is  so  very  English  that 
the  combination  is  fascinating).  "But,  Se 
norita  —  seeds,  even  in  the  tropics,  require 
time  to  grow,  don't  you  know." 

"  Dear  me,  yes;  I  know  that  well  enough," 
I  complained.  "  I'm  in  such  a  hurry  for 
them  to  come  up  that  I  don't  know  how  I'm 
ever  going  to  wait." 

"  Quite  so,"  he  answered.  Then  a  most 
un-English  gleam  came  into  his  eyes,  so  that, 
in  spite  of  myself,  mine  dropped.  "  But  the 
question  is,  are  you  going  to  wait?  "  he  asked, 
looking  at  me. 

It  is  disconcerting  and  uncanny  for  a  man 
to  be  two  nationalities  at  once.  Englishmen 
I  know,  and  Colombians  I  know,  but  to  find 
both  in  one  person  is  more  than  a  woman  is 
prepared  for. 


104     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

I  really  had  not  considered  the  fact  that 
in  laying  out  a  garden  I  was  practically  ar 
ranging  a  future  of  at  least  months  in  the 
Sierra  Nevadas.  When  I  came  up  here  I 
quite  thought  that  by  autumn,  if  not  sooner, 
I  should  have  had  enough  of  it.  Yet  it  is 
now  almost  the  first  of  August  and  I  am 
placidly  putting  in  cabbage  seeds,  which,  as 
Don  Roberto  remarks,  infer  time,  even  in  the 
tropics. 

He  was  still  looking,  and  waiting  for  an 
answer.  "  Nonsense !  He  is  only  a  man," 
I  said  to  myself,  scornfully.  Then,  aloud, — 

"  Oh,  I  can  always  leave  the  garden  and 
go  home,  you  know." 

This  was  intended  to  be  cool  and  crushing, 
but  I  am  afraid  it  was  too  evidently  an  after 
thought  to  be  effective.  He  is  quite  clever 
enough  to  have  perceived  that  the  leaving-it- 
and-going-home  idea  had  but  that  moment  oc 
curred  to  me,  and  that  what  I  was  actually 
planning,  even  if  I  had  not  realized  it,  was 
to  stay  on  at  El  Cafetal  indefinitely. 

But  I  fancy  he  saw  that  I  did  not  quite 
like  having  someone  else  understand  my  ac 
tions  better  than  I  had  understood  them  my 
self. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      105 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  panela  made?  "  he 
inquired,  unexpectedly.  "  Or  eaten  it,  hot 
and  so  ft?" 

"No,"  I  said;  "neither  the  one  nor  the 
other.  We  don't  make  panela  at  El  Cafetal, 
you  know." 

"  Will  you  and  Mrs.  Martin  come  down 
to  '  Vista  Linda  '  one  day,  soon,  and  watch 
the  process?  " 

"  I  should  be  delighted." 

"  How  do  you  get  on  with  the  rats?  " 

Decidedly,  Latins  have  a  nimbleness  of 
speech  that  an  Anglo-Saxon  never  possesses. 
I  do  not  think  Kent  could  change  the  sub 
ject  three  times  in  three  minutes,  though  an 
American  could  do  it  better  than  an  English 
man  could.  Fancy  Harry  Hunter,  darting 
from  one  topic  to  another  as  a  humming  bird 
flashes  from  flower  to  flower!  One  can  as 
easily  picture  an  owl  dancing  a  jig. 

It  was  necessary  to  think  hard  and  fast  to 
keep  up  with  Don  Roberto's  mental  one-hun 
dred-yard  dashes,  but  I  did  it,  and  I  liked 
doing  it. 

'*  I  always  sleep  with  only  my  nose  outside 
the  blankets,"  I  said,  now.  '  The  rats  run 
over  the  bed,  and  I  wouldn't  have  one  of 


106     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

them  touch  my  face  for  the  world.  Ugh! 
They  are  the  one  thing  on  the  plantation  that 
I  don't  like." 

'  You  must  have  a  cat,"  said  Don  Roberto. 
"  In  fact,  a  cat  and  two  kittens." 

"  Why  two  kittens?  "  I  asked. 

"  Because  the  cat  that  I  am  going  to  give 
you  has  two  children  who  would  not  like  to 
be  separated  from  her,"  he  answered,  gravely, 
in  the  tone  of  one  alluding  to  a  widowed 
mother  and  her  offspring. 

Monday  morning,  appeared  Don  Roberto's 
house  boy,  with  a  basket. 

"  A  regalo  (present)  for  the  Senorita," 
announced  the  boy,  putting  the  basket  into 
my  hands. 

"What  in  the  world  is  this?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Martin. 

"  A  cat  and  two  kittens,  of  course,"  I  said 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  as  I  took  off  the 
cover. 

Mrs.  Martin  stared  at  me,  but  instantly 
transferred  her  gaze,  as  out  onto  the  floor 
walked  a  large  gray  cat,  while  a  black  kitten 
and  a  buff  kitten  tumbled  after  her. 

Tied  to  the  handle  of  the  basket  were  two 
small  envelopes,  one  addressed  to  Mrs.  Mar- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      107 

tin  and  one  to  Miss  Parnell.  Inside  of  each 
was  Don  Roberto's  card.  Below  the  name 
he  had  written,  "  Wednesday  from  two  until 
five,"  and  across  the  top,  "  Panela " —  as 
it  might  have  been  "  Dancing,"  or  "  Bridge." 

We  laughed,  Mrs.  Martin  and  I,  and  at 
once  sent  back  by  the  house  boy  our  cards 
with  "  Acceptance,"  inscribed  thereon. 

Panela  is  the  Colombian  substitute  for 
maple  sugar,  made  from  the  sugar  cane.  On 
Wednesday  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  rode  down 
to  "  Vista  Linda,"  and  reviewed  panela-mak- 
ing  from  start  to  finish,  except  the  cutting  of 
the  cane,  which  had  been  done  the  day  before. 
The  cane,  in  great  bundles,  is  carried  on  the 
backs  of  oxen  to  the  grinding  place  (I  can 
not  be  technical)  where  it  is  crushed  between 
rollers.  The  juice  runs  into  tanks  which  are 
heated  from  below,  and  is  boiled  down  until 
it  is  like  molasses.  It  is  then  drawn  off, 
allowed  to  cool  and  thicken  a  little,  then 
poured  into  moulds  about  two  inches  deep, 
six  long  and  four  wide,  where  it  hardens  into 
cakes.  When  it  is  soft  and  warm  it  is  the 
most  delicious  thing  I  ever  ate,  and  hard  and 
cold  it  is  very  like  maple  sugar.  The  na 
tives  eat  quantities  of  it;  so  do  the  children; 


io8     .COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

and  so  does  Mrs.  Martin's  governess.  We 
have  our  coffee  so  early  that  by  ten  in  the 
morning  I  am  in  a  half-starved  condition, 
from  which  only  bread  and  panela  can  save 
me.  If  Mrs.  Martin  is  in  the  storeroom, 
she  deals  out  the  life-giving  food  with  gen 
erous  hand.  If  she  is  not  there,  she  gives 
me  the  key  and  I  help  myself.  It  may  be 
from  this  circumstance  that  little  Willie  con 
nects  me,  vaguely,  with  storeroom,  key,  and 
the  dear-to-his-heart  panela.  At  any  rate, 
last  Sunday  morning  he  awoke  very  early,  got 
out  of  bed  before  any  one  else  was  up,  and 
went  forth  alone  onto  the  corridor.  After  a 
bit,  he  naturally  became  hungry.  His 
mother  and  father  were  still  asleep,  and  I 
think  he  realized  that  if  he  wakened  them  he 
would  be  in  danger  of  an  ignominious  putting 
back  to  bed.  Then  I  must  have  come  into  his 
baby  mind,  for  presently  there  was  a  thump 
ing  at  one  of  my  outside  doors,  and  opening 
it,  I  beheld  Willie,  still  in  his  little  night 
shirt,  very  dejected,  and  suffering  the  pangs 
of  hunger.  When  I  opened  the  door  he 
brightened  up,  believing,  I  suppose,  that  re 
lief  was  in  sight. 

"  Tia,"  (aunt)  —  as  he  calls  me  —  " pan, 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      109 

(bread)  panela."  At  the  same  time  he 
clasped  my  hand  to  lead  me  to  the  store 
room. 

"  But,  Willie,"  I  said,  "  I  can't  give  you 
bread  and  panela.  It  is  all  locked  up." 

"  Tia!  "  he  repeated  emphatically,  as  if  I 
could  not  have  understood  him — "  'pan;  pan 
ela.  Bengal"  (come), —  still  dragging  on 
my  hand. 

"  But,  Willie,"  I  said  again,  "  I  can't  give 
it  to  you,  dear.  I  haven't  any  key." 

With  the  word  "  key  "  it  seemed  that  he 
began  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"  No  tiene  Have?  "  (You  haven't  the  key  ?) 
he  inquired,  searchingly. 

"  No,"  I  assured  him,  "  I  really  haven't, 
Willie." 

He  released  my  hand,  sighed  heavily,  then 
walked  away,  shaking  his  head.  Until  he 
was  far  down  the  corridor,  I  heard  him 
saying,  over  and  over,  in  the  gloomiest  of 
tones  -  '  Tiene  Have,  no;  tiene  Have,  no." 
(She  hasn't  the  key;  she  hasn't  the  key). 

I  thanked  Don  Roberto,  on  Wednesday, 
for  the  cat  and  the  two  kittens; -- for  the 
cat  on  account  of  the  rats,  and  for  the  kittens 
on  their  own  account.  They  are  the  dear- 


1 10  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

est  things !  I  have  named  them  Claro  and 
Oscuro,  because  one  is  light  and  the  other 
dark.  Nothing  could  be  funnier  than  their 
antics  together.  Yesterday  afternoon  I  sat 
on  the  corridor,  watching  them,  and  I  laughed 
till  I  nearly  cried.  First,  they  both  spied  a 
bug  in  the  grass,  and  both  made  graceful 
little  springs  for  it.  Then  the  bug  must 
have  moved  —  I  couldn't  see  it  —  for  the 
kittens  drew  back,  startled.  Next,  they  cau 
tiously  advanced,  jumped  towards  the  crea 
ture  from  opposite  sides,  missed  it,  but  hit 
each  other  with  a  soft  thud.  At  that  they 
forgot  the  foreign  enemy,  and  civil  warfare 
began.  Both  crouched  low,  and  each 
watched  the  other,  warily.  Suddenly  they 
sprang  together,  rolling  over  and  over  as 
they  met.  Then  they  separated  and  were 
quiet  for  an  instant.  Claro  pretended  to  be 
off  guard;  Oscuro  eyed  him,  craftily.  All  at 
once  Glare's  paw  went  out,  and  swiftly  cuffed 
Oscuro  on  the  ear.  Up  jumped  Oscuro  and 
tore  away,  full  speed,  Claro  after  him.  They 
raced  over  the  grass  till  they  reached  a  little 
chicken  coop,  now  empty.  Oscuro  darted  in 
behind  the  lattice;  Claro  stopped  just  out 
side,  on  guard.  There  were  a  few  seconds 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   in 

of  suspense;  then,  without  warning,  Oscuro's 
paw  flew  out  and  hit  Claro  squarely  on  the 
nose.  Followed  a  wild  dash  for  the  lattice 
by  Claro,  and  a  brilliant  defence  on  the  part 
of  the  besieged.  Anon,  Claro  ceased  hostil 
ities,  and  turning  his  back  upon  his  brother, 
began  to  lick  his  paws,  and  straighten  his 
fur,  ruffled  by  the  fray.  Oscuro  lay  low,  but 
I  could  almost  see  him  wink  as  he  sat  there 
and  watched  Claro  and  took  note  of  the  un 
wary  attitude.  If  a  truce  had  been  tacitly 
agreed  upon,  Oscuro  broke  faith  in  a  most 
disgraceful  manner.  For  while  Claro  was 
making  his  toilet,  unsuspectingly,  and  peace 
and  quiet  reigned  —  presto!  —  Oscuro  was 
out  from  behind  the  lattice.  Over  rolled 
Claro,  and  on  top  of  him  the  perfidious 
brother  —  over  and  over  until  both  were  tan 
gled  into  one  soft,  struggling  heap.  At  that 
I  laughed  aloud;  the  kittens  jumped  apart, 
drew  back,  and  looked  at  me,  alertly.  Then, 
with  a  common  impulse,  they  ran  frantically 
away,  across  the  grass,  under  the  roses,  and 
around  the  house,  out  of  sight. 

Another  funny  thing  happened  yesterday. 
I  had  washed  my  hair  and  then  had  gone  out 
to  let  it  dry  in  the  sun,  taking  a  book  with 


ii2     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

me.  As  I  read,  I  suddenly  felt,  from  behind, 
a  twitch  and  a  tug  on  the  hair,  but  I  thought 
it  was  one  of  the  children  and  took  no  notice. 
Then  there  was  a  decided  pull,  and  I  turned 
quickly  around  to  remonstrate  and  to  catch 
the  prankish  one.  But  instead  of  the  laugh 
ing  child  that  I  expected  to  see  dodging  away 
from  me,  there  stood  a  little  calf,  looking  at 
me  with  brown  eyes  full  of  wonder.  It  had 
evidently  mistaken  my  hair  for  a  bunch  of 
hay. 

July  29 th,  Sunday. 

Yesterday  morning  Mrs.  Martin  and  I 
worked  from  seven  to  eleven,  planting  out 
cabbages.  I,  personally,  put  into  the  ground, 
three  hundred  and  five  little  cabbages  that 
Mrs.  Martin  gave  me  from  her  garden, 
grown  from  seeds.  These,  of  course,  I  did 
not  put  into  the  beds  of  my  kitchen  garden 
—  there  would  not  have  been  room  —  but  in 
a  clearing  down  below  the  banana  trees. 
Then  in  the  afternoon  I  went  down  the  hill 
again,  and  sowed,  in  my  garden,  seeds  of  car 
rots,  cauliflowers  and  cucumbers.  (The 
beans  and  peas  that  I  planted  last  week  are 
already  up.)  I  went  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock 
and  slept  ten  hours. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      113 

Everyone  who  has  been  here,  lately,  has 
chaffed  me  unmercifully  about  my  vegetable 
raising.  They  offer  me  magnifying  glasses  to 
see  the  little  green  shoots  above  the  ground; 
they  prophesy  that  my  returns  from  the  pota 
toes  will  be  empty  barrels,  and  they  advise 
me  that  salt  does  not  grow  at  this  altitude. 
Mr.  Cunningham  rode  over  the  other  day, 
announcing  that  he  had  come  for  fresh  vege 
tables,  and  that  he  wished  to  file  his  order, 
now,  for  all  the  potatoes  that  I  shall  have. 
The  other  night,  while  we  were  at  dinner, 
Juana  came  up  from  Santa  Marta,  bringing  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Martin's  agent,  saying  that 
the  four  barrels  of  potatoes  have  been  or 
dered  from  New  York.  Mr.  Martin  glanced 
at  the  note  and  handed  it  to  me,  without 
comment.  I  read  it  and  passed  it  on  to  Mrs. 
Martin,  who  said,  cordially,  "  Well !  so  your 
potatoes  are  really  on  the  way."  The  dis 
agreeable  Englishman  was  dining  with  us  that 
night,  and  at  Mrs.  Martin's  remark  he  said 
to  me,  sarcastically,  "  I  suppose  you  expect  to 
make  your  everlasting  fortune." 

I  was  trying  to  think  of  something  to  say, 
when  Mr.  Martin  looked  up  from  his  duke 
and  said,  quietly,  "  Those  potatoes  are  mine." 


ii4     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Everyone  stared  at  him.  "What?"  said 
the  disagreeable  Englishman. 

'  Those  —  potatoes  —  are  —  mine,"  re 
peated  Mr.  Martin,  just  as  quietly,  but  with 
an  emphasis  that  could  be  felt. 

Not  another  word  was  spoken  on  the  sub 
ject:  none  was  needed.  Mr.  Martin  had 
made  it  perfectly  understood  that  any  further 
remarks  about  potatoes  could  be  sent  to  his 
address.  As  Jean  Ingelow  says,  "  Some  men* 
are  such  gentlemen." 

August  8th,  Wednesday. 
La  Casa  Nueva. 

We  moved  last  Saturday.  Kent  was  here 
to  help  us,  and  he  is  with  us  still.  He  arrived 
Saturday  morning  in  the  midst  of  the  con 
fusion,  and  as  of  course  he  had  not  known 
that  we  were  going  into  the  new  house  that 
day,  he  thought  at  first,  as  he  rode  up,  that 
we  were  having  another  fire.  Harry  Hunter 
came  over  with  Kent  from  "  La  Ventura,"  to 
show  him  the  way,  so  we  had  still  another  as 
sistant  in  our  change  of  residence;  but  Mr. 
Hunter  went  back  the  same  afternoon. 

Never  was  such  a  moving!  Every  single 
thing  had  to  be  carried  by  hand  down  four 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      115 

hundred  feet  of  steepness.  It  was  fortunate 
that  there  were  so  many  hands,  for  all  was 
to  be  under  cover  before  the  rain.  The  scene 
on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  between  the  old 
house  and  the  new,  looked  like  a  colony  of 
ants,  laden  with  spoil,  running  busily  to  and 
fro  from  one  ant  hill  to  another.  There 
were  Mr.  Martin,  Kent,  Harry  Hunter,  Don 
Pepe,  Mrs.  Martin,  all  the  children  who  can 
walk  or  toddle,  myself,  all  the  house  servants, 
and  one  or  two  men  from  the  ranches.  It 
was  up,  up,  up,  and  down,  down,  down,  like 
the  King  of  France  and  his  ten  thousand  men. 
"  And  when  we  were  only  half  way  up,  we 
were  neither  up  nor  down."  By  noon  it  was 
all  over;  breakfast  was  cooked  in  the  new 
kitchen,  and  eaten  in  the  dining-room  of 
la  casa  nueva.  There  were  no  carpets  to  lay 
down;  things  were  simply  put  into  their  ap 
propriate  spaces  and  corners,  and  all  was 
done.  As  the  rain  came  on,  and  the  after 
noon  grew  cool,  we  lighted  a  fire  in  the  new 
fireplace;  and  when  we  saw  that  the  chimney 
absolutely  did  not  smoke,  we  felt,  for  the  mo 
ment,  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  wish 
for.  Of  course,  as  we  are  human  beings,  very 
much  alive,  and  healthily  progressive,  we  are, 


u6  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

now,  two  days  later,  happily  dissatisfied  again. 
We  want  new  furniture  of  all  kinds;  some 
sort  of  decoration  —  paper  or  otherwise  — 
for  inside  walls  and  ceilings;  Mr.  Martin  de 
sires  a  ridge-pole,  and  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  are 
eager  to  paint  the  fireplace.  But  these  things 
will  arrive  in  time,  and  in  the  meanwhile  we 
are  in  the  house  whose  building  we  have 
watched  so  long  and  so  interestedly  —  La 
Casa  Nueva!  Everything  is  convenient  and 
comfortable,  and  we  have  a  fine  sense  of  space 
and  expansion.  It  seems  odd  to  go  upstairs 
again,  after  having  lived  entirely  on  one  floor. 
My  new  room  is  in  the  second  story,  and  I 
consider  it  the  best  room  in  the  house,  as  its 
window  is  to  the  view,  the  west,  and  the  sun 
set.  There  are  two  bedrooms  upstairs,  be 
sides  a  large  space  which  we  use  for  storage. 
Downstairs  we  have  a  sala,  a  dining-room,  a 
square  hall,  three  bedrooms,  an  office  and  a 
beautiful  despensa  (storeroom)  which  is  the 
joy  of  the  housewife's  heart.  Apart  from 
the  main  house,  but  connected  by  a  roofed  cor 
ridor,  are  the  kitchen  and  the  servants'  quar 
ters,  and  a  bath  house,  in  which  is  a  large, 
cemented,  brick  tank.  Water  is  led  into  this 
from  a  spring  which  flows  down  the  hill,  run- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      117 

ning  through  the  sun,  so  that  by  ten  o-clock 
in  the  morning  it  is  warmed  to  just  the  right 
temperature  to  make  bathing  delicious.  A 
little  distance  from  these  buildings  is  a  chicken 
house  and  run.  To  the  right  of  the  house  is 
Mrs.  Martin's  garden  (mine  is  below,  down 
a  little  declivity);  beyond  that  the  store  — 
quite  a  sizable  building,  with  several  rooms 
in  it  —  and,  further  off,  the  stable,  as  it  is 
called,  but  which  is  no  more  than  a  very 
large,  open  shed,  where  the  mules  may  be 
sheltered  when  they  are  not  in  the  fields. 

The  store  is  quite  an  important  factor  in  the 
life  of  the  plantation.  It  is  always  spoken 
of  by  its  English  name  —  I  do  not  know  why. 
We  call  the  sitting-room,  the  sola;  the  store- 
ro'om,  the  despensa;  muleteers,  arrieros;  the 
plantation  a  finca  or  an  hacienda,  and  so  on; 
but  the  store  is  always  the  store  —  it  is  not 
even  a  shop.  Everything  that  the  mozos  and 
their  families  need  to  eat  or  to  wear  or  to 
keep  house  with  is  sold  in  the  store,  and  every 
day  at  five  o'clock,  when  the  gong  is  sounded 
for  them  to  stop  work,  the  people  come  in 
numbers  to  buy.  The  selling,  or  broadly,  the 
attending  to  their  wants,  is  called  "  despatch 
ing  " —  a  Spanish  word,  Anglicised.  Don 


ii8     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Pepe  usually  "  despatches,"  but  some  times 
Mrs.  Martin  does  it,  and  then  I  find  it  most 
interesting  to  go  down  and  sit  on  a  barrel- 
end,  and  watch  the  scene.  It  is  generally  the 
men  who  come  to  buy,  but  often  women  come, 
too,  and  sometimes  little  children.  They 
gather  in  front  of  the  counter,  laughing  and 
joking,  and  one  by  one  they  are  "  despatched." 
The  great  staples  of  purchase  are  arroz  and 
mantcca  (rice  and  lard)  without  which, 
cooked  together,  they  would  not  believe  that 
they  could  live  a  day.  I  always  think  of  the 
nonsense  rhyme, — 

"  IT  IS  CHEAP  BY  THE  TON, 
AND  IT  NOURISHES  ONE, 
AND  THAT'S  THE  MAIN  OBJECT  OF  FOOD." 

But  also  they  go  away  from  the  store  with 
calico,    matches,    machetes,    platanos    (plan 
tains),    melangas    (the   Colombian  substitute 
for  potatoes),  panela  —  all  manner  of  things 
in  the  ubiquitous   mochila    (bag)    over  their 
shoulders.     The  sun  is  just  setting  as  they, 
leave  for  their  ranches,  and  the  long  light  falls ' 
on  pictures  worth  seeing,  of  scattering  groups 
of  dusky  faces,   bright  eyes,   dark,   tumbled 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     119 

hair,  and  lithe,  erect  bodies,  quite  untired 
from  the  day's  work.  They  separate  to  their 
huts  and  their  evening  meal,  and  to  such 
family  life  as  is  possible  to  the  conditions 
in  which  they  live  —  conditions  which  shocked 
me  dreadfully  when  I  first  came  up  here,  but 
to  which  I  am  now  entirely  habituated,  if  not 
reconciled.  One  can  never  be  sure,  in  making 
a  morning  call  at  any  one  of  the  ranches, 
exactly  what  combination  of  master  and  mis 
tress  will  present  itself;  it  is  not  by  any  means 
certain  that  it  will  be  the  same  couple  whom 
one  saw  there  together  the  day  before.  The 
man  may  be  the  stranger,  or  it  may  be  the 
woman,  but  a  change  in  one  or  the  other 
is  not  at  all  unusual.  When  I  first  knew  of 
this  state  of  affairs,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
something  ought  to  be  done  about  it,  and  I 
ventured  to  say  so.  Then  I  was  told  the 
story  of  Mrs.  Warner's  marriages,  and  I 
made  no  further  suggestions.  It  seems  that 
some  years  ago  there  was,  on  one  of  the  fincas, 
a  manager  named  Warner,  whose  wife  was 
the  daughter  of  an  English  clergyman.  Mrs. 
Warner  came  straight  from  the  rectory  to 
the  Sierra  Nevadas,  and  her  consternation 
at  what  she  found  may  be  easily  imagined. 


120    COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

She  cried,  and  was  homesick,  and  said  it  was 
a  heathen  country,  and  that  she  could  never 
live  here,  but  that  if  she  did  live  here,  she 
would,  at  least,  put  a  stop  to  the  unwedded 
life  in  the  ranches.  She  talked  about  the 
poor  savages'  ignorance  of  their  moral  obli 
gations,  and  said  that  they  only  needed  some 
one  to  teach  them,  and  that,  once  instructed, 
they  would  gladly  lead  a  better  life.  She 
sent  down  to  Santa  Marta  for  a  priest  and 
had  him  brought  up  on  a  mule.  There  was 
one  whole  day  in  which  the  people  were  gath 
ered  together  and  exhorted,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  services,  all  the  couples,  one  after  the 
other,  were  solemnly  and  legally  married. 
The  priest  was  then  convoyed  back  to  Santa 
Marta,  and  a  great  satisfaction  and  sense  of 
duty  well  done  filled  the  heart  of  Mrs.  War 
ner. 

Poor  Mrs.  Warner!  She  had  done  her 
best  —  at  least  she  could  comfort  herself  with 
that  thought,  and  it  is  always  a  consolation. 
Comfort  of  some  kind  she  certainly  needed, 
for  within  a  month  from  the  day  of  the  wed 
dings  there  was  not  one  single  couple  on  the 
plantation  that  was  composed  of  the  same 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      121 

man  and  woman  whom  the  priest  had  united 
in  holy  matrimony. 

"  So  you  see,"  Mrs.  Martin  says,  resign 
edly,  "  nothing  can  be  done.  And  it  seems  to 
me  better,"  she  adds,  most  reasonably,  "  to 
let  them  live  as  they  do,  unmarried,  than  to 
marry  them,  knowing  that  they  will  be  un 
faithful  to  their  vows  in  less  than  a  month." 

Mrs.  Martin  is  one  of  the  most  reasonable 
women  I  have  ever  known;  one  of  the  few 
who  can  see  a  thing  from  another's  stand 
point.  She  is  very  even-tempered,  and  self- 
controlled  in  the  best  sense  of  that  word, 
which  does  not  in  the  least  infer  that  she  is 
not  impulsive.  How  I  dislike  a  person  who 
is  not  impulsive ! 

The  other  afternoon,  a  day  or  two  after 
Mrs.  Martin  and  I  had  spent  a  long  morning 
transplanting  cabbages,  Clara  came  running 
into  the  house,  much  excited,  and  calling  out, 

"  Oh !  What  do  you  think  Francisco  has 
done?" 

"  What  ?  "  we  demanded. 

"  Taken  up  all  Mother's  little  cabbages  and 
put  them  in  Miss  Parnell's  garden !  " 

It  was  only  too  true.     We  can  not  make 


122     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

out  why  he  did  it,  but  through  some  misunder 
standing  of  orders,  Francisco,  the  man  who 
works  for  me,  had  carefully  dug  up  nearly  all 
the  young  cabbages  that  Mrs.  Martin  had  so 
toilsomely  put  into  the  ground,  and  had  re 
planted  them  in  my  garden.  It  was  enough 
to  have  made  a  sphinx  tear  its  hair,  for  not 
only  had  all  Mrs.  Martin's  labor  gone  for 
naught,  but  she  had  lost  the  cabbages,  which 
would  not  bear  transplanting  a  second  time. 
La  Nina  Eva  only  laughed  —  just  laughed 
and  laughed  till  she  could  laugh  no  more. 

Kent  has  been  visiting  the  plantations  in 
the  other  valley,  and  now,  as  I  have  said,  he  is 
here  at  El  Cafetal.  He  is  studying  coffee  at 
first  hand,  and  though  he  affects  a  cool,  dis 
passionate  attitude  in  speaking  on  the  subject, 
I  can  see  that  if  he  has  not  already  a  case 
of  coffee  fever,  at  least  his  pulse  is  rapid, 
and  his  temperature  above  normal.  He  goes 
out  with  Mr.  Martin  every  morning  and  stays 
until  breakfast  time,  watching  the  mozos  at 
whatever  they  are  doing.  After  breakfast, 
away  the  two  go  again,  walking  or  riding  over 
the  finca  until  I  am  positive  there  is  not  an  inch 
where  a  man  or  a  mule  can  go  that  Kent  has 
not  seen.  Already  he  knows  so  much  more 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      123 

about  the  plantation  than  I  do  that  I  feel  as 
if  he  were  the  one  who  belongs  here,  and  I 
the  newcomer  and  outsider,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  I  like  it  or  not.  I  suppose  it  is  very 
strenuous  and  business-like,  but  I  should  think 
he  need  not  spend  all  his  time  like  that.  Even 
after  dinner  Kent  and  Mr.  Martin  talk  about 
"  hectares,"  and  felling,  and  cleaning,  and 
shade,  and  pulpers,  and  driers,  until  it  is  time 
to  be  asleep;  in  fact,  Mrs.  Martin  and  I 
go  to  our  rooms  and  leave  those  two  men 
still  smoking  and  talking  in  the  sola,  and 
qulen  sabe  at  what  hour  they  go  to  bed  ? 

The  only  time  that  Kent  has  had  for  me 
was  last  Sunday  afternoon  —  while  Mr.  Mar 
tin  was  taking  his  nap  —  and  even  then  his 
thoughts  were  altogether  on  coffee.  Between 
rains  I  took  him  down  to  my  garden,  and 
showed  him  everything,  and  told  him  about 
the  potatoes,  and  all  that  I  am  planning  to 
do.  Remembering  Don  Roberto,  I  naturally 
expected  Kent  to  ask  me,  eagerly,  how  long 
I  intended  to  remain  in  Colombia ;  I  even  felt 
a  trifle  apprehensive  as  to  what  he  would  say 
on  that  subject.  I  need  not  have  feared; 
we  might  just  as  well  have  been  speaking  of 
Mrs.  Martin's  garden.  At  first,  indeed, 


124     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Kent  did  seem  interested;  —  he  asked  me  so 
particularly  just  when  I  had  put  in  the  seeds, 
and  how  long  they  had  been  in  coming  up. 
I  told  him,  and  he  gave  my  answers  such 
careful  attention  that  I  felt  quite  flattered, 
and  touched.  But  when  I  had  finished,  and 
he  had  the  data  all  in  his  mind,  he  said, 
slowly  and  thoughtfully, — 

'  Yes;  it's  awfully  good  soil.  Seeds  don't 
come  up  like  that  at  home.  Coffee  certainly 
ought  to  do  well  here." 

Then  we  went  back  to  the  house,  and  found 
Mr.  Martin  awake,  and  it  needed  only  the 
word  "  soil  "  to  start  them  off  again  on  one 
of  their  discussions. 

"  Twenty-five  thousand  up  to  January  of 
next  year,  you  said,  I  think?"  This  was 
from  Kent. 

"Yes;  twenty-five  thousand,  total  cost  of 
making  the  plantation.  But  I  have  got  back 
in  crops  five  thousand,  so  am  out  of  pocket, 
up  to  that  date,  twenty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Then  what  about  next  year's  crop?  " 

"  Fifteen  thousand  dollars.  Eight  thou 
sand  of  that  will  go  for  running  the  place, 
making  the  estate  stand,  at  the  end  of  next 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      125 

year,  at  a  cost  of  thirteen  thousand  dollars. 
The  same  returns  for  the  following  year  will 
bring  it  down  to  six  thousand." 

"  And  the  year  after  that  I  understand  that 
the  coffee  will  be  in  full  production.  How 
many  bags  did  you  say?  " 

"  Twenty-five  hundred;  which  would  mean 
thirty  thousand  dollars  at  the  low  price  of 
to-day." 

"  And  the  expenses  of  that  year?  " 

"  Ten  thousand  dollars." 

"  Twenty  thousand  net.  That's  fourteen 
thousand  to  the  good.  And  an  estate  worth 
one  hundred  thousand,  you  estimate?" 

"One  hundred  thousand;  yes." 

"  By  Jove !  cried  Kent,  his  eyes  shining. 
"  Then  look  here  — " 

"  Will  you  have  a  cup  of  tea?  "  I  asked, 
meekly.  (Mrs.  Martin  always  leaves  after 
noon  tea  to  me,  because  I  like  to  make  it, 
and  she  doesn't.) 

"  We  were  speaking  of  coffee  -  said 
Kent,  smiling,  as  I  handed  him  his  cup. 

"Oh,  really?"  I  interpolated. 

" —  But  at  five  o'clock  I  suppose  it  is  time 
to  change  the  subject." 


126     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

August  nth. 

Kent  has  gone,  but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brit 
ish  Consul  are  now  staying  with  us.  They 
came  yesterday  afternoon,  accompanied  by 
Don  Roberto,  whom  they  have  been  visiting 
for  a  short  time.  We  had  a  jolly  tea,  and 
then,  as  Kent  is  to  stop  at  "  Vista  Linda  " 
for  a  few  days,  and  see  that  plantation  be 
fore  he  returns  to  Santa  Marta,  he  and  Don 
Roberto  went  away  together. 

I  have  noticed  a  very  curious  thing  in 
regard  to  those  two  men :  —  Kent's  Ameri 
canism  seems  to  blot  out  all  the  English  in 
Don  Roberto,  and  leave  the  latter  pure  Co 
lombian.  When  Don  Roberto  is  alone,  if  I 
do  not  consider  his  eyes,  and  if  he  does  not 
say  Senorita,  he  seems  to  me  to  be  as  thor 
oughly  an  Englishman  as  Mr.  British  Con 
sul  is;  but  when  he  is  with  Kent,  in  some 
mysterious  fashion  the  English  drops  away 
from  him  —  melts,  dissolves,  vanishes  — • 
until  there  is  no  trace  of  it  left,  and  I  wonder 
that  I  ever  thought  him  anything  but  a  Span 
iard.  It  is  like  one  of  those  experiments 
that  we  used  to  do  at  school.  There  was  a 
glass  jar  full  of  some  reddish-yellow  liquid; 
the  professor  poured  into  it  a  drop  or  two  of 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     127 

blue  stuff,  and  instantly  the  red  disappeared, 
leaving  a  pure  amber.  I  have  always  dis 
liked  chemistry,  but  with  characters  in  the 
crucible,  instead  of  atoms,  it  is  a  more  inter 
esting  science. 


'August  1 5th. 

MY  potatoes  were  brought  up  from 
Santa  Marta  day  before  yesterday. 
La  casa  nueva  is  much  nearer  the 
road  than  the  old  house  was,  and  we  now 
know,  both  by  sight  and  by  sound,  when  the 
arrieros  and  the  mules  are  coming,  at  least 
minutes  before  they  reach  the  store,  where 
the  mules  are  always  unloaded.  Far  away, 
winding  in  and  out  as  the  trail  bends  and 
curves,  we  see  the  line  of  laden  mules,  and, 
presently,  the  long,  peculiar  cry  of  the  arrie 
ros  reaches  our  ears.  The  children  have 
known  that  my  potatoes  were  coming  and 
have  been  on  the  watch  for  them,  so,  when  the 
little  caravan  was  sighted,  there  was  a  shout 
of  "  Ahi  viene  las  papas!  Ahi  viene  las 
papas!"  (here  come  the  potatoes)  and  Wil 
lie  came  running  to  me  with  the  news  — 
"  Tia  —  papas!  Tia  —  papas!"  Yester 
day  fourteen  men  were  planting,  and  last 
night  the  potatoes  were  all  in  the  ground. 
128 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     129 

The  planting  cost  me  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
nine  dollars  in  Colombian  paper  —  about 
five  dollars  gold. 

I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
situation  of  my  future  potato  crop  was  once 
that  of  Indian  dwellings.  One  small,  level 
spot,  in  particular,  was  evidently  a  site  of  some 
importance.  At  one  side  or  edge  of  this 
space,  just  where  the  ground  begins  to  slope 
steeply  away,  there  are  two  monoliths,  about 
ten  feet  high,  standing  eight  feet  apart,  and 
from  them,  leading  down  the  slope,  is  a  par 
ticularly  broad  and  well-made  stone  stair 
way.  The  steps  thus  lead  directly  down 
from  the  stone  pillars,  and  Mrs.  Martin  and 
I  firmly  believe  that  the  latter  were  once  the 
side  posts  of  a  great  gate  or  doorway  — 
probably  the  entrance  to  the  abode  of  2 
mighty  chief. 

Just  here,  in  digging  holes  for  the  pota 
toes,  the  men  found  two  knives,  each  about 
a  foot  long;  one  curved  at  the  end,  something 
like  a  pruning  knife,  and  the  other  straight. 
They  are  both  so  encrusted  with  rust  as  to 
be  at  least  twice  their  original  thickness,  and 
they  are  very  heavy.  Mr.  British  Consul 
was  much  interested  in  the  find. 


130     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  Spanish,  of  course,"  he  said,  taking  the 
knives  in  his  hands  and  turning  them  this 
way  and  that.  "  I  wonder  if  the  old  Span 
iards  themselves  got  this  far  up  the  valley, 
or  if  the  Indians  went  down  to  Santa  Marta 
and  traded  with  the  white  men,  and  then 
brought  the  knives  up  here  to  their  homes. 
Either  way,  the  things  have  been  under  your 
potato  patch,  Miss  Parnell,  for  over  three 
hundred  and  fifty  years;  long  enough  for  the 
forest  to  grow  up,  above  them,  and  flourish 
for  centuries  before  Mr.  Martin  cut  it  down 
to  make  his  clearings.  How  I'd  like  to 
know  the  personal  history  of  these  knives," 
he  went  on  musingly.  "  They  must  have 
been  a  great  wonder  to  the  red  men  when 
they  were  first  brought  up  here,  and  I  dare 
say  they  were  the  chiefest  treasures  of  the 
lucky  Indian  who  owned  them.  Perhaps  he 
was  murdered  on  their  account  by  some  en 
vious  brave  who  took  that  way  to  get  posses 
sion  of  them.  They  didn't  happen  to  find 
a  human  skull  near  the  knives,  did  they?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  found  any  skull,"  I 
answered,  laughing. 

"  Caramba!  Yes,  they  did,"  broke  in 
Mr.  Martin.  "  I  brought  it  home,  but  I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     131 

forgot  to  give  it  to  you."  He  put  his  hand 
into  the  large  pocket  of  his  field  jacket,  took 
out  a  veritable  skull,  and  tendered  it  to  me, 
his  eyes  twinkling. 

"  But  that  is  a  child's  skull,"  I  said,  hold 
ing  it,  gingerly; — "  just  a  baby's." 

Mr.  Martin  smiled,  and  so  did  Mr.  Brit 
ish  Consul. 

"  Is  that  the  first  one  you've  seen,  Miss  Par- 
nell?"  asked  Mr.  Martin. 

"  The  first  what?  "  I  said,  puzzled. 

"  The  first  skull  of  a  monkey." 

"  Monkey !  " 

"  Certainly.  That  is  a  monkey's  skull;  it 
does  look  human,  doesn't  it?  " 

It  did  indeed.  "  Just  fancy,"  I  said, 
"  that  was  once  the  head  of  a  live  monkey. 
I  wonder  if  he  lived  here  in  the  days  of  the 
Indians." 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  Mr.  British  Consul  was 
reminded;  "What  about  that  murder?  In 
view  of  the  evidence  just  presented  I  incline 
to  the  opinion  that  the  great  Chief  who  pos 
sessed  the  knives  of  the  Pale-face  was  not 
murdered,  but  that  his  life  was  saved  through 
a  timely  warning  given  him  by  the  excited 
chattering  of  his  favorite  monkey." 


132     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

'The  monkey  himself  was  killed,"  I  sug 
gested,  holding  up  the  skull. 

"  Certainly,"  concurred  Mr.  British  Con 
sul,  gravely.  '  The  monkey  was  poisoned  by 
the  baffled  assassin;  but  he  died  happy  in  the 
consciousness  of  having  done  his  duty." 

I  took  the  old  knives  up  to  my  room 
when  I  went  to  bed,  and  my  last  waking 
thought  was  that  I  wished  they  could  speak 
and  tell  me  what  Mr.  British  Consul  calls 
their  personal  history.  I  went  to  sleep,  and 
slept  long  and  soundly,  but  as  it  was  getting 
on  towards  morning,  I  suddenly  heard  the 
queerest  noise  —  a  rattling,  clanking,  metallic 
sort  of  noise  —  and  instantly  I  opened  my 
eyes.  The  room  was  full  of  moonlight  — 
tropical  monlight  —  and  every  object  was 
clear  and  distinct.  I  saw  the  two  old  Span 
ish  knives,  but  not  quite  where  I  had  left 
them,  and  they  were  not  alone  —  somehow 
their  resurrection  of  yesterday  had  become 
known,  for  while  I  had  slept,  quite  a  gather 
ing  of  their  friends  had  come  to  greet  them. 
There  were  an  old  flint-lock  gun,  a  modern 
rifle,  a  revolver  and  an  Indian  arrow-head, 
besides  a  number  of  knives  of  various  kinds. 
These  last  were,  of  course,  the  immediate 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      133 

relatives  of  the  Spanish  knives,  and,  with 
them,  formed,  as  it  were,  a  little  group  apart. 
They  were  talking  excitedly,  and  once  I  saw 
one  of  the  Spanish  knives  point  quickly  to 
the  monkey's  skull  which  lay  on  the  shelf 
above  them.  I  would  have  given  anything 
to  have  been  able  to  hear  what  was  being 
said,  for  of  course  I  knew  that  it  must  be 
the  story  of  the  attempted  murder.  What 
light  the  narrative,  told  by  the  knife  itself, 
undoubtedly  an  eye  witness,  would  have 
thrown  on  the  life,  customs  and  history  of 
those  days !  Just  what  Mr.  British  Consul 
had  wanted  so  much  to  know.  Just  what 
Mrs.  Martin  and  I  had  so  often  wondered 
and  talked  about,  when  we  had  tried  to  get 
Mr.  Martin  to  excavate  on  the  sites  of  the 
Indian  villages.  But,  most  unfortunately, 
the  knives  were  too  far  from  where  I  lay  for 
me  to  distinguish  more  than  a  word  or  two, 
here  and  there,  and  even  what  I  could  hear 
was  spoken  in  such  a  quaint  old  Spanish,  as 
it  might  have  been  the  Spanish  of  Cervantes, 
that  I  could  not  understand.  I  reluctantly 
turned  my  attention  to  the  other  group,  nearer 
to  me;  they  were  talking  more  loudly  —  in 
fact,  in  the  high,  quick  tones  of  disputation. 


134     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  I  suppose  "  -  it  was  the  modern  rifle  that 
was  speaking — "  I  suppose  you  rather  pride 
yourself  upon  your  ancestry,  do  you  not,  Mr. 
Flint-lock?" 

"  I  certainly  do,"  answered  the  Flint-lock. 
"  I  have  every  reason  to  do  so ;  I  belong 
to  a  good  old  Revolutionary  family." 

The  revolver,  which  was  standing  near, 
cocked  its  trigger  at  this,  and  spoke  in  a 
sharp,  metallic  voice. 

"  For  my  part,"  it  said,  "  I  believe  in  a 
nobility  of  deeds,  rather  than  of  years,  and 
that  of  deeds  performed  by  one's  self,  and 
not  by  one's  grandfather.  Give  me  actions; 
give  me  — " 

At  this,  quite  a  furor  arose  among  the 
weapons. 

"And  who  are  you?"  asked  the  Indian 
arrow-head,  pointedly.  ''  What  have  you 
done,  that  you  speak  of  deeds  so  confidently? 
Not  one  of  us  present  but  has  seen  more  serv 
ice,  and  taken  part  in  more  '  actions  '  than 
you  ever  dreamed  of.  And  who  is  more 
likely  to  perform  deeds  of  valor  than  a  weap 
on  with  a  record  behind  him,  and  a  family 
reputation  to  sustain?  " 

"  A    nice    reputation   your   family   has,    I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     135 

declare,"  sneered  the  revolver.  '  When  one 
thinks  of  the  massacres  in  which  you  have 
probably  played  a  prominent  part,  and  of  the 
atrocities  committed  by  your  cousins,  the  tom 
ahawk  and  the  war  club,  it  is  enough  to 
make  a  civilised,  modern  weapon  feel  rusty." 
"Is  it,  indeed?"  flung  back  the  arrow 
head.  "  Ah,  no  doubt  *  atrocities  '  have  al 
ways  been  strictly  confined  to  the  uncivilised 
nations.  We  have  a  monopoly  of  that  sort 
of  thing  —  of  course.  But,  pardon  me,  Mr. 
Revolver,  what  was  that  little  affair  in  which 
you  were  engaged  a  few  years  ago,  near 
Paris?  A  duel,  was  it  not?  —  or  so  called 
by  your  principal. — *  Murder '  was  the  word 
used  by  the  boy's  relatives,  I  believe.  I  may 
relate  the  incident?  Our  friends  will  care  to 
hear  it,  I  am  sure.  It  was  in  a  cafe,  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  city.  There  was  a  game  of 
cards  —  a  professional  player  —  a  young  boy 
just  from  home  —  the  old  story  —  we  have 
all  heard  it.  The  boy  was  ruined,  of  course, 
and  he  accused  the  other  of  foul  play. 
Everyone  present  knew  he  was  right,  and 
every  man  in  the  room  tried  to  keep  the  young 
fellow  from  accepting  the  challenge  thrown 
at  him  by  the  gambler.  But  it  was  all  to  no 


136     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

purpose.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes  the 
boy  was  lying  dead, —  a  bullet  —  from  a  re 
volver —  through  his  heart." 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  moment  or  two, 
then  the  revolver  began  to  speak,  sulkily. 

"  The  affair  has  been  very  much  misrepre 
sented,"  he  claimed.  "  The  boy  — 

It  is  dreadful  to  be  such  a  sleepy-head  as 
I  am.  I  simply  can  not  keep  awake  at  night, 
no  matter  how  exciting  may  be  the  occasion. 
Once  I  was  visiting  at  a  country  house  at 
home,  and  in  the  small  hours  I  was  awak 
ened  by  hearing  low  voices  outside  my  win 
dow.  "  Thieves !  "  I  said  to  myself.  "  I 
must  get  up  instantly  and  alarm  the  family." 
I  turned  over,  the  better  to  roll  out  of  bed  — 
and  the  next  thing  I  knew  the  sun  was  shin 
ing  in  my  room,  and  it  was  morning.  Prob 
ably  the  voices  were  not  those  of  burglars,  as 
nothing  had  been  taken;  but  if  they  had  been 
it  would  have  been  just  the  same :  I  had  fallen 
asleep  in  the  very  act  of  going  to  arouse  the 
household. 

Now,  it  may  be  believed  that,  interested 
as  I  was  in  listening  to  the  stories  of  the 
weapons,  I,  nevertheless,  dropped  off  to  sleep 
in  the  midst  of  their  quarrel.  When  I  awoke 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      137 

again,  they  were  gone.  Only  the  Spanish 
knives  remained,  and  they  were  looking 
drowsy,  as  well  they  might. 

We  have  been  talking  about  folk-lore,  a  sub 
ject  in  which  Mr.  British  Consul  is  absorb 
ingly  interested.  Every  evening  after  dinner 
is  over,  our  house  servants  dispose  themselves 
on  the  kitchen  corridor,  and  there,  until  bed 
time,  they  gossip  and  tell  stories.  Some  of 
them  are  very  good  story-tellers,  as  those  usu 
ally  are  who  depend  for  their  mental  enter 
tainment  upon  the  spoken  rather  than  the  writ 
ten  word;  but  the  curious  part  of  it  all  is  that 
these  legends  which  they  recount,  evening 
after  evening,  are  precisely  the  stories  that 
I  listened  to  when  I  was  a  child  —  precisely. 
The  first  time  that  I  heard  these  "  cuentos  " 
was  one  night  when  I  had  been  in  the  moun 
tains  only  a  short  while,  before  we  came  down 
to  la  casa  nueva.  I  had  something  that  I 
wanted  to  say  to  Clara,  and  seeking  the  child, 
I  found  her  in  the  old  kitchen,  in  the  midst 
of  a  group  of  servants  —  all  surrounding  Fe 
licia,  and  intently  listening  to  her.  It  made 
me  think,  a  little,  of  what  I  have  read  of  the 
old  "  quarter  "  days  in  the  south,  when  the 


138     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

negroes  gathered  together  to  hear  the  plan 
tation  stories.  I  sat  down,  with  Clara  in  my 
lap,  and  in  the  beginning  was  more  interested 
in  the  scene  and  the  story-teller  than  in  what 
was  being  told.  I  listened,  however,  idly, 
and  presently  I  heard  —  of  course,  in  Span 
ish  — 

"  And  Brother  Rabbit,  he  sat  there,  hid 
ing  under  a  tree.  Then  came  along  Mr. 
Lion,  and  he  says,  very  loud  and  fierce,  '  Is 
there  anybody  that  will  show  me  the  way 
across  this  river?  '  Then  Brother  Fox  came 
loping  up,  and  he  says  — " 

"  Brother  Fox !  "  "  Brother  Rabbit !  " 
"  Mr.  Lion ! "  So  these  children  of  the 
tropics  had  their  Uncle  Remus  stories  I 
Well,  that  was  not  so  very  remarkable,  per 
haps;  it  is  natural  for  people  who  live  near 
to  Mother  Earth  to  consider  the  animals  as 
members  of  their  family,  and  to  tell  stories 
about  them.  But  what  followed  was  not  so 
easy  to  explain.  Where  did  these  South 
American  natives  get  the  notion  of  Cinder 
ella  and  Goody  Two  Shoes,  and  Jack  the 
Giant  Killer,  and  even  the  old  story  of  Her 
cules  and  his  struggle  with  Antasus?  Not 
one  of  these  people  can  read  a  word,  yet,  from 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     139 

the  eldest  to  the  youngest  they  all  know  the 
old  stories,  exactly  as  we  have  them.  They 
say  that  the  tales  were  told  to  them  by  their 
parents  and  their  grandparents,  but  where 
did  the  parents  and  the  grandparents  get 
them?  Never  from  books;  we  may  be  sure 
of  that.  Through  the  Spaniards?  It  is 
scarcely  possible.  I  could  hardly  believe  my 
ears  when  I  heard  from  Juana  and  Felicia  the 
familiar  words  in  their  unfamiliar  Spanish; 
it  gives  one  a  queer  sensation  to  listen  to  the 
fireside  stories  of  home  retold  under  the 
Southern  Cross. 

I  happened  to  speak  of  this  last  night  at 
dinner,  and  Mr.  British  Consul  remarked  that 
it  would  be  possible  to  have  the  same  sensa 
tion  in  many  other  parts  of  the  earth. 

"  Comparative  folk-lore  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  subjects  in  the  world,"  he  began. 

"  Now  you've  started  him,"  Mrs.  British 
Consul  stage-whispered.  "  Quien  sabe  when 
he  will  stop?  " 

"  There  are  certain  stories,  as  there  are 
certain  customs,"  went  on  the  gentleman, 
"  which  are  almost  universally  known.  A 
comparison  of  the  myths  and  legends  of  dif 
ferent  countries  shows  us  that  there  is  a  prim- 


140     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

itive  stage  of  culture  through  which  all  races 
pass,  and  in  which  they  resemble  one  another. 
Folk  stories  are  a  survival  of  this  period, 
which  may  be  called  the  childhood  of  the 
world.  When  the  Grimm  brothers  made 
their  collection  of  fairy  tales,  they  gathered 
from  old  libraries,  from  peasants'  talk,  from 
years  of  inquiry  through  many  lands.  Goody 
Two  Shoes,  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,  Red  Rid 
ing  Hood,  Cinderella  and  other  familiar  tales 
were  repeated  to  children  before  the  English 
language  was  known." 

"  But  who  invented  the  myths,  in  the  first 
place?  "  asked  Mrs.  Martin,  out  of  the  good 
ness  of  her  heart. 

Mr.  British  Consul  fairly  beamed. 
"  They  originated  in  various  ways,"  he  made 
haste  to  answer,  delightedly.  "  Some  of 
them  are  probably  versions  of  the  Scripture 
narratives;  some  have  an  historical  origin, 
as  when  real  persons  have  been  deified  after 
their  death;  some  are  truths  which  were  orig 
inally  taught  in  the  form  of  allegories,  but 
which,  later,  came  to  be  understood  literally; 
and  some  are  undoubtedly  of  physical  origin 
—  that  is,  the  elements  —  fire,  water,  and  so 
on  —  were  objects  of  religious  worship,  and 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      141 

the  powers  of  nature  came  to  be  personi 
fied." 

Mrs.  British  Consul  sighed  plaintively  — 
I  suppose  she  had  heard  it  all  so  many  times 
before.  When  Don  Pepe  —  who  under 
stands  English,  though  he  does  not  speak  it, 
and  who  had  been  listening  interestedly  to 
Mr.  British  Consul  —  now  offered  a  remark, 
the  lady  turned  to  him  with  a  relieved  and 
cordial  smile. 

"  Among  the  tribes  of  the  interior  of  Co 
lombia,"  said  Don  Pepe;  " — tribes  who  have 
never  known  the  white  man  --  I  have  seen  the 
Indian  children  playing  the  games  of  Euro 
peans,  such  as  ball,  hide  and  seek,  peg  top, 
and  cat's  cradle." 

Mr.  British  Consul  seized  upon  this, 
eagerly. 

"  Oh,  yes;  "  he  attested;  "  I  have  no  doubt 
of  it.  A  collection  of  the  toys  and  games  of 
children,  for  centuries  past,  throws  great 
light  on  the  history  of  civilisation.  Some 
games,  as  chess,  for  instance  — " 

He  ceased  abruptly;  his  face  grew  red; 
tears  filled  his  eyes;  he  seemed  about  to  choke. 

"  A-chu !  "  he  sneezed  violently.  "  A-chui 
A-chu." 


H2  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  God  bless  you !  "  invoked  Mrs.  British 
Consul,  laughing. 

Now,  only  an  enthusiast  would  have  main 
tained  his  interest  at  such  a  moment  as  that. 
Still  wiping  his  eyes,  Mr.  British  Consul 
turned  to  his  wife  — 

"  Do  you  know  why  you  said,  '  God  bless 
you?  '  "  he  demanded. 

"  Why  did  I  say  it?  "  returned  Mrs.  Brit 
ish  Consul,  surprised.  "  Why,  everyone  says 
it." 

"But  why?"  insisted  the  man  with  a 
hobby. 

"  Quien  sabef  "  she  answered,  in  the  fash 
ion  of  the  country. 

"  Because,"  he  informed  her,  desiring  noth 
ing  better  than  to  answer  his  own  question; 
"  because  it  was  once  supposed  that  he  who 
sneezed  was  trying  to  cast  out  a  devil  by 
whom  he  was  possessed,  and  the  pious,  '  God 
bless  you !  '  meant  -  -'  May  God  help  you  in 
your  effort!  '  " 

Everyone  laughed.  And  then  again  we 
laughed,  as  Mrs.  British  Consul  said,  feel 
ingly, 

"  It  is  the  only  interesting  thing  I  have 
ever  known  you  to  say  on  that  subject." 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     143 

August  ijth. 

The  banana  boat  is  in.  We  sighted  it 
through  the  field  glass,  before  it  entered  the 
Bay  yesterday  afternoon,  and  we  can  see  it, 
now,  lying  at  its  dock  in  Santa  Marta.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  British  Consul  went  down  this 
morning,  to  attend  to  correspondence,  and 
the  possible  needs  of  an  improbable  arrival 
from  any  part  of  the  British  Empire.  An 
arriero  has  just  brought  up  our  mail  from 
the  steamer,  and  with  it  a  letter  from  Kent, 
who  is  now  in  Santa  Marta,  but  who  sends  the 
astonishing  news  that  he  is  going  to  Bogota. 

He  says  — "  I  think  I  ought  to  visit  the 
capital,  and  learn  something  of  the  interior 
of  the  country  before  I  decide  whether  or  not 
to  invest  in  coffee  land  on  the  coast.  Be 
sides,  I'd  like  to  see  a  South  American  Repub 
lic  during  a  revolution,  and  this  is  as  good  an 
opportunity  as  I'll  ever  have.  If  the  rest 
of  Colombia  is  as  much  like  a  comic  opera  as 
Santa  Marta  is,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  miss  any 
of  it.  Hasta  la  vista. —  (until  we  meet 
again)  Estoy  (I  am)  off  for  Bogota!  " 


144     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

October  ist. 

When  one  teaches  all  the  morning,  works 
in  a  garden  every  minute  of  the  afternoon 
that  it  is  not  raining,  and  goes  to  bed  soon 
after  eight  at  night,  I  suppose  the  record 
of  one's  days  does  seem,  to  an  outsider,  to 
be  rather  a  dull  one.  I  am  sure  my  friends 
at  home  believe  that  if  I  have  not  already 
turned  into  a  cabbage,  I  shall  do  so  before 
many  more  weks  of  this  plantation  existence 
have  passed  over  my  head.  From  their  let 
ters  I  can  see  that  those  who  think  I  do  not 
know  any  better  than  to  lead  such  a  life  as 
this  are  pitying  me,  and  that  they  who  credit 
me  with  understanding  what  I  am  doing  are 
censuring  me  for  it.  Every  one  writes  me  — 
"  I  should  think  you  would  die  of  the  loneli 
ness  and  quiet!  "  Loneliness?  They  do  not 
realise  how  often  —  but  I  will  speak  of  that 
later.  Quiet?  Which  of  them  has  been 
stung  by  a  scorpion,  and  has  barely  escaped 
the  bite  of  a  tarantula,  both  in  one  day? 
None,  I  am  positive.  But  to  me  these  things 
have  happened. 

A  scorpion  is  very  like  a  lobster  —  a  lob 
ster  reduced  to  a  length  of  from  one  to 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     145 

four  inches.  It  stings  with  its  tail,  and  at 
the  moment  of  contact  its  victim  is  ready 
to  believe  that  it  is  a  lobster  of  full  size  and 
strength  that  has  done  the  work.  On  the 
coast,  where  it  is  hot,  the  scorpion's  sting 
often  produces  fever;  but  up  here  it  is  only 
—  unpleasant. 

One  morning,  as  I  was  dressing,  I  put  my 
arm  into  the  sleeve  of  my  waist,  and'  in 
stantly  felt  as  if  a  large  needle  had  been 
run  full  length  into  my  shoulder.  I  tore  off 
my  waist,  and  a  scorpion  about  an  inch  long 
dropped  to  the  floor.  I  put  my  foot  on  it, 
and  then  I  flew  into  Mrs.  Martin's  room. 

"  O-o-o !  "  I  cried;  "  I  have  been  stung  by 
a  scorpion !  "  Mrs.  Martin  quickly  put 
ammonia  on  the  spot,  and  then  she  brought 
me  rum  —  a  great  deal  of  rum.  "  Drink 
it!  "  she  commanded. 

"All  that?" 

'  Yes,  yes !     You  won't  feel  it.     Drink  it 
at  once !  " 

So  I  did.  Fancy  all  that  rum  on  an  empty 
stomach  !  Mr.  Martin  says  it  was  enough  to 
have  made  him  dizzy,  but  as  La  Nina  Eva 
had  promised,  I  did  not  feel  the  slightest  ef- 


146  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

feet  from  it.  The  rest  of  that  day  my  arm 
was  a  little  swollen  and  painful,  and  that  was 
all. 

Then,  that  very  afternoon,  I  was  almost 
bitten  by  a  tarantula.  I  was  sitting  on  a  log 
back  of  the  house,  when  suddenly  I  beheld 
the  thing  walking  towards  me.  I  had  seen 
one  before,  but  it  was  dead  —  the  men  had 
killed  it  in  the  woods,  and  Don  Pepe  had 
brought  it  in.  I  had  thought,  then,  that  if  I 
should  ever  be  in  the  path  of  a  live  one,  I 
should  be  paralysed  with  fright,  and  so  I 
was.  If  it  had  been  running  along  the  ground, 
I  think  it  would  not  have  been  so  fearsome, 
but  its  very  deliberateness  as  it  stalked  to 
wards  me  gave  a  menacing,  sinister  character 
to  its  approach  that  chilled  my  blood,  and 
took  from  me  all  power  to  move.  It  stood 
so  high  above  the  ground,  too  —  quite  four 
inches,  I  should  think  —  putting  one  of  its 
black,  hairy  legs  before  the  other,  slowly, 
slowly,  but  always  in  my  direction.  I  sat  as 
if  in  a  nightmare,  seeing  the  creature  draw 
ing  nearer  and  nearer,  but  absolutely  unable 
to  get  up  and  run  away.  At  last  it  was  within 
three  feet  of  me,  and  I  had  heard  the  natives 
say  that  tarantulas  will  sometimes  make  great 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR  147 

jumps  to  attack  a  person.  It  was  now  or 
never.  I  made  a  desperate  effort,  rose  from 
the  log,  sprang  to  one  side,  and  ran  to  the 
house.  There  I  first  sank  weakly  onto  a 
chair,  and  then  I  made  such  a  furor  that  the 
entire  household  gathered  in  alarm.  When 
I  explained,  the  excitement  instantly  faded 
away.  Only  a  tarantula !  One  of  the  serv 
ants  said,  afterwards,  that  she  had  supposed, 
from  my  manner,  that  it  had  been  a  tigre 
(tiger).  But  it  was  the  first  tarantula  I  had 
ever  seen  alive  —  and  it  was  coming  towards 
me  so  slowly  and  so  surely. —  I  have  seen 
two  others,  since  that  day,  and  I  have  held 
my  ground  and  thrown  stones  at  them.  This 
one,  at  least,  will  never  frighten  me  again. 
We  all  went  out,  with  sticks,  between  two 
of  which  we  caught  the  tarantula  as  if  in  a 
pair  of  tongs,  and  it  is  now  curled  up  in  a 
bottle  of  alcohol. 

These  little  incidents  should  convince  the 
most  sceptical  that  life  at  El  Cafetal  is  not 
altogether  monotonous.  If  nothing  is  actu 
ally  happening  at  the  moment,  at  least  there 
are  always  possibilities,  and  one  can  never 
be  sure  what  adventures  the  day  is  going  to 
hold. 


148     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Now,  as  to  the  loneliness,  I  have  only  one 
remark  to  make,  and  that  is,  simply  —  that 
I  am  not  lonely.  Does  it  matter  so  much 
how  many  people  there  are?  I  have  grown 
very  fond  of  La  Nina  Eva,  and  of  Mr.  Mar 
tin  and  the  children.  Also,  we  have  guests, 
even  up  here;  never  a  week  goes  by  that  one 
does  not  come  riding  to  our  door,  and  often 
there  are  several.  This,  however,  is  equivo 
cation;  I  suppose  the  real  reason  why  I  am 
not  homesick  is  —  Don  Roberto.  He  is  here 
very  often,  and  he  does  not  pretend  that  he 
comes  for  anything  in  the  world  but  to  see 
me.  I  do  not  know  whether  or  not  a  man 
of  his  race  can  keep  his  feelings  out  of  his 
eyes  if  he  tries.  Don  Roberto  does  not  try, 
and  I  see  in  those  brown  eyes  of  his  that 
which  makes  me  —  well  —  contented  in  the 
wilderness. 

Of  course  nothing  could  ever  come  of  this; 
in  race,  religion  and  country  we  are  too  widely 
divided.  He  must  realise  it  as  well  as  I 
do,  so  that  I  do  not  feel  guilty  in  letting  mat 
ters  drift  on.  He  likes  to  come  here,  and  to 
talk  to  me  with  the  most  expressive  eyes  I 
ever  saw.  I  like  to  have  him  come,  and  I 
find  the  messages  of  the  eyes  very  pleasant 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     149 

ones.  That  is  all  —  there  can  be  no  danger 
for  either  of  us;  and  as  the  Latin  race  is 
proverbially  a  fickle  one,  he  will  probably  be 
the  first  to  stop  caring. 

In  the  meantime,  I  could  not  go  home  if 
I  wished.  The  revolution  has  taken  a  fresh 
impulse,  and  conditions  on  the  coast  are 
chaotic  in  the  extreme.  The  liberals  seem 
to  be  winning;  —  they  have  just  captured  the 
entire  navy  of  Colombia,  a  boat  which  was 
formerly  the  private  yacht  of  one  of  our 
American  millionaires.  Of  course,  this  is  a 
great  loss  to  the  government;  the  more  so  as 
there  is  a  rumor  that  the  liberals  are  about 
to  bombard  Santa  Marta.  The  Department 
of  Coast  Defence  has  been  thrown  into  a 
great  state  of  excitement  —  the  coast  defences 
being  several  old  and  very  rusty  cannon  on 
the  Morro.  Long  as  these  guns  have  been  in 
position,  it  seems  that  the  gunners  have  not 
yet  learned  how  to  handle  them,  for  one  of 
the  foreign  residents,  who  is  something  of  a 
practical  engineer,  has  been  sent  for  in  haste, 
and  entreated  by  the  distracted  defenders  to 
show  them  how  to  manage  their  artillery. 

The  liberals  have  burned  bridges,  and 
taken  possession  of  the  little  railroad,  and 


150     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

have  fought  the  government  troops  very  near 
Santa  Marta.  An  attack  on  that  town  is 
daily  expected,  and  the  approaches  to  all  the 
streets  are  barricaded.  The  banana  boats 
are  not  running,  and  no  one  knows  when  they 
will  be.  No  bananas  can  be  brought  in  from 
the  plantations  for  shipment,  so  the  agent 
of  the  United  Fruit  Company  sent  word  by 
the  last  boat  that  was  here  that  there  would 
be  no  use  in  sending  another  until  he  let  them 
know.  As  there  are  no  steamers,  of  course 
there  is  no  mail,  coming  or  going.  The  only 
possible  way  to  send  letters  is  by  some  one 
who  may  be  going  to  Barranquilla  in  a  sail 
boat,  and  perhaps  some  mail  will  be  brought 
over  from  there  in  the  same  way.  There  has 
been  no  regular  communication  with  Barran 
quilla  in  three  weeks. 

No  word  has  come  from  Kent  since  he 
started  for  Bogota,  and  as  few,  if  any,  Mag- 
dalena  boats  are  running  now,  quien  sabe 
when  shall  we  hear  from  him?  He  should 
have  reached  the  capital  long  before  this 
if  he  found  a  steamer  going  up  when  he  ar 
rived  at  Baranquilla;  but  if  the  liberals  hold 
the  Magdalena,  it  may  be  months  before  he 
will  be  able  to  get  down  to  the  coast  again. 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     151 

This  revolution  is  the  most  comical  tragedy, 
and  the  most  tragic  comedy  that  it  is  possible 
to  conceive,  and  no  one  could  conceive  it  who 
has  not  lived  in  a  South  American  Republic. 

When  Mr.  Martin  came  in  to  breakfast, 
this  noon,  he  changed  his  field  jacket  for  a 
house  one,  as  he  always  does,  and  hung  the 
field  jacket  over  a  chair  in  his  room.  We 
had  finished  the  meal,  but  were  still  sitting  at 
the  table,  talking  idly,  when  suddenly  Mr. 
Martin  exclaimed, 

"  Caramba!  I  almost  forgot !  Miss 
Parnell,  will  you  go  and  put  your  hand  into 
the  pocket  of  my  jacket,  and  see  what  you 
find?" 

Of  course  I  went.  I  put  in  my  thumb,  and 
pulled  out  —  a  tiny,  wee  potato. 

"  Oh !  "  I  cried,  in  great  excitement,  run 
ning  back  into  the  dining-room.  "  Are  they 
ripe?" 

"Ripe,"  mocked  Mr.  Martin.  "Who 
ever  heard  of  a  ripe  potato?  If  you  mean, 
are  they  large  enough  to  be  dug  up  ?  —  no, 
they  are  not;  they  are  small  yet,  like  this  one. 
But  I  think  you  may  be  able  to  pick  them 
from  the  bushes  by  Thanksgiving  if  you  have 
good  luck." 


152     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

He  may  laugh  as  much  as  he  pleases;  the 
potatoes  are  really  coming  on,  and  that  is  all 
I  care.  As  for  my  kitchen  garden,  it  is  my 
joy  and  pride.  Yesterday  I  picked  the  first 
beans.  Putting  up  the  poles  for  those  beans 
was  hard  work.  There  were  sixty  of  them, 
and  I  dug  the  holes  and  did  everything  my 
self;  but  yesterday's  picking,  and  to-day's  and 
the  thought  of  all  the  pickings  that  are  to 
come,  very  much  more  than  compensate  me. 
The  beets  and  the  onions  are  doing  finely,  and 
the  cabbages  are  "  heading  up."  Outside 
my  wire  fence  I  have  put  in  one  hundred  and 
ninety-two  tomato  plants,  and  there  are,  al 
ready,  quantities  of  little  green  tomatoes  on 
them.  These  plants  have  to  be  tied  up  to 
stout  sticks,  and  I  have  discovered  that  shreds 
of  dry  banana  leaves  make  excellent  strings, 
and  do  not  rot  in  wet  weather. 

October   ijth. 

Coffee  is  such  a  pretty  thing !  —  when  it  is 
growing,  I  mean.  The  trees  are  planted  in 
rows  —  hundreds  and  thousands  of  rows. 
If  they  were  let  alone  they  would  grow  to 
about  twenty  feet  in  height;  but  they  are  kept 
down  to  about  eight  or  ten  feet  so  that  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     153 

berries  can  be  more  easily  reached  at  picking 
time. 

When  I  came  to  El  Cafetal,  last  June,  all 
the  coffee  berries  were  green;  now  many  of 
them  are  dark  red,  like  cherries,  and  the  effect 
as  they  are  seen  against  the  glossy  leaves  of 
the  trees,  is  very  striking.  It  is  not,  how 
ever,  the  beauty  of  the  berries  that  is  their 
most  important  claim  to  our  attention  just  now ; 
it  is  the  fact  that  when  they  are  red  they  are 
ripe  and  ready  to  be  picked.  Already  the 
harvesting  has  begun,  but  as  the  coffee  does 
not  all  ripen  at  once,  the  gathering  will  go  on 
from  now  until  January.  The  berries  are 
picked,  one  by  one,  by  men,  women  and  chil 
dren,  the  last  two  entering  into  the  work  with 
the  greatest  gusto,  as  it  is  the  opportunity  of 
the  year  for  them  to  earn  something.  All 
over  the  place,  now,  groups  of  vie j as,  much- 
achas  and  nihas  (old  women,  young  women 
and  little  girls)  may  be  seen,  harvesting  bus 
ily,  the  while  they  laugh  and  gossip  and  ap 
pear  to  enjoy  themselves.  They  make  so 
light  an  affair  of  the  picking  that  I  thought 
it  must  be  pleasant  work,  and  that  I  would 
try  it.  I  took  a  small  pail  and  went  gaily  out 
to  some  trees  near  the  house;  but  in  about 


154     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

half  an  hour  I  returned,  hot,  weary  and 
greatly  cast  down,  in  that  I  had  gathered  dur 
ing  what  seemed  to  me  an  eternity,  and  the 
pail  was  not  yet  full.  I  have  decided  that  I 
would  rather  teach,  or  even  put  up  poles  for 
beans.  A  good  picker  harvests  three  bushels 
a  day,  and  earns  fifty  cents;  some  gather  as 
much  as  six  bushels  a  day,  but  this  is  rare. 
One  bushel  of  berries  will  give  ten  pounds 
of  cleaned  coffee.  The  beans  must  be  pulped 
the  same  day  that  they  are  picked,  or  they 
will  commence  to  ferment  in  the  pulp,  and 
stain  the  coffee.  From  the  pulper  the  grains 
go  into  the  fermenting  tanks,  where  they  are 
allowed  to  ferment  from  twenty-four  to 
eighty  hours,  in  order  to  take  off  a  sweet, 
gummy  substance  which  is  on  the  hull.  After 
the  coffee  is  properly  fermented,  it  is  washed 
in  several  waters,  and  then  laid  out  in  the 
sun  to  dry.  When  it  is  dried,  it  has  to  be 
put  through  the  huller,  which  takes  off  the 
silvery  skin,  and  then,  at  last,  the  bean  is 
as  we  see  it  in  the  market. 

As  we  are  so  large  a  family,  there  are 
always  freshly-washed  clothes  hanging  out 
to  dry,  and  as  the  coffee  crop  is  constantly 
coming  on,  there  is  always  some  coffee  spread 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      155 

out  in  the  sun.  Every  afternoon,  therefore, 
when  the  rain  begins,  there  are  excited  shouts 
of,  "Bring  in  the  clothes!"  and  "Take  in 
the  coffee!  "  and  for  a  time,  daily,  we  have 
scenes  of  the  wildest  hurry  and  confusion. 

November  131)1. 

We  are  now  in  the  worst  of  the  rainy 
season,  which  becomes  more  and  more  severe 
as  it  draws  towards  its  close.  In  less  than 
a  month,  probably,  the  days  will  be  all  blue 
sky  and  sunshine,  but  at  present  even  our 
brilliant  forenoons  have  deserted  us.  By  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  clouds  gather,  and 
the  fog  rolls  up  the  valley,  blotting  out  even 
the  nearest  rancho.  There  is  no  riding  forth 
on  paseos,  Sunday  mornings;  Mrs.  Martin 
and  I  can  not  go  out  to  dig  for  Indian 
treasure;  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  me  to 
work  in  my  garden.  I  can  imagine  that  if 
we  were  now  in  the  old  house,  where  there 
was  no  glass  in  the  windows,  and  the  doors 
did  not  shut  properly,  everything  would  be 
very  damp  and  shivery.  This  must  be  the 
weather  to  which  El  Senior  Consul  referred 
when  he  was  trying  to  convince  me  that  it 
would  be  folly  to  go  into  the  mountains. 


156     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

To  me  it  seems  incredible  that  any  one  can 
feel  that  happiness  or  unhappiness  depends 
upon  external  circumstances.  People  who 
are  glad  or  miserable,  according  as  they  are 
hot  or  cold,  or  wet  or  dry,  or  have  the 
things  they  like  to  eat,  or  do  not  have  them, 
either  do  not  know  —  have  never  known  — 
what  happiness  means,  or  else  their  time  of 
felicity  has  gone  by,  and  they  are  left  to  the 
dull  common-places  of  mere  physical  being. 
To  the  former,  I  always  greatly  desire  to  re 
veal  what  they  have  been  missing;  for  the 
latter  I  am  afraid  there  is  very  little  hope. 
If  I  am  unhappy,  I  am  unhappy,  and  the 
most  paradisiacal  outward  conditions  do  not 
comfort  me.  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  am 
really  happy,  nor  heat,  nor  cold,  nor  wet,  nor 
drought  has  power  to  touch  me.  I  knew, 
that  day  when  El  Senor  Consul  was  talking 
to  me,  that  all  those  things  would  make  no 
difference.  I  might  have  been  muy  infeliz 
(very  unhappy)  up  here,  but  it  would  not 
have  been  on  account  of  the  climate.  As  it 
is,  I  am  contented,  and  to  be  contented  means 
a  great  deal.  It  signifies  that  I  am  glad 
of  each  day,  exactly  as  it  comes,  and  that  I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     157 

do  not  want  anything  to  be  other  than  just 
as  it  is. 

As  we  can  not  go  out,  in  these  days,  Don 
Roberto  and  I  have  endless  conversations 
in  front  of  the  open  fire  in  the  sola.  We 
talk  of  life  in  England,  with  which  I  have 
had  no  acquaintance,  but  that  has  furnished 
the  conditions  of  Don  Roberto's  environment 
since  he  was  a  little  boy;  of  life  in  the  United 
States,  a  country  that  Don  Roberto  can  never 
hear  enough  about,  and  concerning  which 
he  asks  ten  thousand  questions;  of  Bogota, 
Don  Roberto's  birthplace,  but  which  I  know 
so  very  much  better  than  he  does;  of  Colom 
bia  in  general,  Santa  Marta,  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vadas,  coffee.  Then  we  roam  over  the  world 
—  its  history,  its  literature,  its  ethics  —  until, 
with  the  tea  cups,  we  usually  begin  to  talk 
of  ourselves. 

Sometimes,  after  one  of  these  long  inter 
changes  of  thought,  I  wonder  if,  after  all, 
differences  in  race  and  religion  and  country 
are  as  fundamental  as  I  have  believed  them 
to  be;  or  if,  perhaps,  back  of  them  all,  and 
beyond  them  all,  the  heart  of  a  man  is  not 
the  same  the  world  over.  And  does  any 
thing  else  matter? 


158     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

December  ist. 

A  week  ago  we  were  making  modest  prep 
arations  for  a  quiet  little  Thanksgiving  din 
ner  all  by  ourselves.  The  fatted  turkey  was 
ready  to  be  offered  up  (that  is,  we  were  ready 
to  offer  him),  and  some  of  my  new  potatoes 
had  been  "  picked  from  the  bushes  "  to  bear 
him  company.  Then,  on  the  Tuesday  be 
fore,  to  our  great  surprise,  we  received  an 
invitation  from  the  Ansons  to  spend  the  holi 
day  with  them  at  "  Las  Selvas,"  their  place 
••n  the  next  valley.  It  seemed  to  us  very  odd 
that  the  Ansons  should  be  going  into  the 
mountains  in  November,  in  the  end  of  the 
rainy  season,  when  in  so  short  a  time  the 
weather  will  be  perfect.  If  they  wanted  to 
celebrate  Thanksgiving,  why  did  they  not 
do  it  in  Santa  Marta?  Or  if  they  desired 
a  house  party  at  "  Las  Selvas,"  why  did  they 
not  wait  until  Christmas?  Each  one  of  us, 
including  Don  Roberto  —  who  was  here 
when  Mrs.  Anson's  note  was  brought  up,  and 
who  had  received  one  just  like  it  himself  — 
asked  these  questions  of  each  of  the  others, 
so  that  in  all  they  were  repeated  twelve  times. 
Then  we  all  said  to  all  the  others,  "  Qu'ien 
sabe? "  and  after  that  we  decided  to  accept 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      159 

the  invitation  first,  and  to  trust  that  we  might 
find  out  the  reasons  for  it  afterward.  We 
were  requested  to  arrive  on  Wednesday,  and 
to  remain  until  Thanksgiving  afternoon,  and 
we  felt  obliged  to  question  one  another  again, 
all  around,  as  to  why  we  had  not  been  asked 
to  stay  over  until  Friday. 

Wednesday  morning  Mrs.  Martin  and  I 
packed  our  fiesta  (festival)  clothes  in  bags 
and  suit  cases,  and  Mr.  Martin  inspected  the 
straps  and  fastenings  of  the  saddles  and 
bridles  of  our  mules,  for  he  knew  that  the 
road  to  be  gone  over  was  a  bad  one.  Don 
Roberto  came  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  at 
half  past  twelve,  after  an  early  and  hasty 
breakfast,  we  four  left  El  Cafetal.  Each 
of  us  rode  a  mule;  and  another  mule,  in 
charge  of  an  arriero  on  foot,  carried  our 
luggage. 

The  trail  through  the  forest,  over  the 
mountains  into  the  next  valley,  is  an  old 
Indian  route,  overgrown  for  centuries,  and 
partially  cut  out  only  a  few  weeks  ago;  and 
it  is  the  worst  road  I  ever  saw,  except  some 
few  parts  of  the  pass  between  Honda  and 
Bogota.  Again  and  again  we  had  to  get 
off  our  mules  and  let  the  animals  pick  their 


160     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

way  as  best  they  could,  while  we  did  the  s.ame, 
on  foot.  Twenty  times  it  seemed  as  if  we 
must  break  our  necks.  We  were  tangled  up 
in  vines;  we  stumbled  over  logs;  we  went 
sliding  down  steep  places,  and  crawling  up 
the  sides  of  almost  perpendicular  ones. 
Sometimes  the  trail  was  so  narrow  that  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  a  mule's  four  feet 
could  all  be  on  it  at  once,  and  then  I  hastily 
repeated  to  myself  the  saying  that  if  a  mule 
has  only  three  feet  over  a  precipice,  with 
one  on  the  firm  earth,  he  will  scramble  back 
into  the  road.  Many  times  the  luggage  had 
all  to  be  taken  off  the  cargo  mule  and  carried 
across  bad  bits,  piece  by  piece,  on  the  arrlero's 
back.  Once  or  twice  it  really  semed  doubt 
ful  whether  we  should  get  through  or  not; 
but  at  last,  just  at  sunset,  we  emerged  from 
the  forest  and  came  out  onto  the  edge  of  the 
"Las  Selvas  "  clearing;  two  hundred  thou 
sand  coffee  trees  were  spread  out  before  us, 
and  we  were  within  sight  of  the  house.  We 
all  shouted  at  once,  and  Mr.  Anson  and 
Harry  Hunter  came  running  out  to  greet  us. 
Arrived  at  the  house,  we  found  all  the 
rest  of  the  foreign  colony  of  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vadas  and  Santa  Marta  assembled,  and  there 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      161 

were  even  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  King,  a  clergyman 
and  his  wife,  from  Barranquilla.  Really,  it 
was  awfully  good  of  the  Ansons  —  coming 
up  at  this  season,  and  sacrificing  themselves 
to  make  an  American  holiday. 

"What  is  Thanksgiving?"  Don  Roberto 
had  asked  me  on  the  way  over,  and  the 
question  had,  for  the  time,  spoiled  my  pleas 
ure  in  the  trip.  My  thoughts  had  gone  back 
over  the  years,  to  all  the  Thanksgivings  that 
I  could  remember,  since  I  was  so  little  that 
I  had  to  be  carried,  sound  asleep,  from  the 
table  to  my  bed.  These  festivals  are  part 
of  my  life,  and  of  the  life  of  my  forefathers, 
back  to  the  days  of  the  colonies,  and  they  are 
significant  of  a  great  deal  more  than  the 
mere  holidays  themselves.  The  fact  that  I 
have  Thanksgiving  days  to  remember  means 
that  I  was  born  in  a  Thanksgiving  land,  of 
Thanksgiving  ancestry,  in  a  Thanksgiving 
atmosphere,  as  the  day  stands  for  a  new 
world,  a  free  people,  and  individuality  of 
thought  and  conscience.  What  would  it  be 
to  live  the  rest  of  my  life  with  one  to  whom 
Thanksgiving  had  to  be  explained?  It  was 
only  an  instant  that  this  was  in  my  mind, 
but  it  sufficed  to  make  me  wish  that  Don 


162     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Roberto's  native  town  were  Boston  instead 
of  Bogota. 

I  forgot  it  during  the  evening.  It  was  a 
cosmopolitan  gathering,  and  there  was  very 
little  in  the  atmosphere  to  remind  me  of  the 
land  where  my  fathers  died,  land  of  the 
Pilgrims'  pride.  Every  one  talked  coffee, 
just  as  usual;  —  that  is,  every  one  who  was 
not  talking  bananas.  I  was  intent  upon 
Baby  and  Harry  Hunter.  They  were  not 
much  together,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  there 
was  something  in  their  attitude  to  each  other 
that  had  not  been  there  last  July;  and  once 
I  saw  an  "  understanding  "  look  pass  between 
them  that  made  me  feel  certain  that  Harry 
had,  so  far,  prospered  in  his  wooing.  No 
one  else  noticed  it,  I  think;  no  one  else,  per 
haps,  was  looking  through  the  eyes  of  the 
heart,  just  then,  as  I  was. 

Before  seven  o'clock  on  Thursday  — 
Thanksgiving  —  we  were  all  up  and  out  of 
doors.  Such  a  morning !  Brilliant,  radiant 
sunshine  —  the  air  just  warmly  cool  —  it  was 
like  a  perfect  summer's  day  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  It  seemed  as  if  the  dry  season  had 
come  on  over  night,  for  during  all  that  holi 
day  the  sky  was  blue,  and  there  was  not  a 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     163 

cloud  in  the  universe.  "  Queen's  weather, 
by  Jove!"  said  the  Englishmen;  but  we 
Americans,  remembering  what  day  it  was, 
exchanged  glances,  smilingly;  ive  knew  why 
the  rainy  season  had  unconditionally  sur 
rendered. 

We  had  been  told  that  the  dinner  was  to 
be  at  twelve,  as,  in  fact,  it  would  need  to 
be  if  we  were  all  to  return  home  that  day. 
We  had  the  morning  coffee  leisurely,  then 
most  of  us  went  out  again,  and  wandered 
about,  viewing  the  plantation.  The  men  got 
up  some  sports,  running,  jumping  and  shoot 
ing;  and  Mrs.  British  Consul  and  I,  who 
had  brought  cameras,  photographed  every 
one  several  times  over.  About  eleven  we  re 
turned  to  the  house  to  dress  for  dinner,  and 
at  half  past  eleven  we  were  all  assembled  in 
our  fiesta  clothes  out  on  the  wide  corridor. 
Baby  and  Harry  Hunter  were  standing  to 
gether,  a  little  apart;  I  thought  I  had  never 
seen  her  look  so  dear  and  sweet,  nor  Harry 
so  earnest  and  manly.  Presently  Mr.  King, 
the  clergyman  from  Barranquilla,  walked 
over  towards  the  two;  he  stopped  as  he  came 
to  them;  and  then  —  could  we  believe  our 
ears?  — 


164     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"Dearly  beloved" — the  clergyman  was 
saying  —  "  we  are  gathered  together  here, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  and  in  the  face  of  this 
company,  to  join  together  this  man  and  this 
woman  in  holy  matrimony." 

There  was  the  lightest,  faintest  sound,  as 
if  every  one  present  had  drawn  a  quick  breath 
at  the  same  moment;  —  then  perfect  silence, 
and  the  service  went  on. —  "  To  have  and  to 
hold,  from  this  day  forward,  for  better,  for 
worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  in  sickness  and 
in  health,  to  love  and  to  cherish,  till  death 
us  do  part." 

When  it  came  to,  "  I,  Margaret,  take  thee, 
Henry,"  I  looked  around  to  see  where  "  Mar 
garet  "  was,  before  I  realized  that,  of  course, 
that  must  be  Baby's  name.  Well;  —  as 
Mrs.  Henry  Hunter,  "  Baby "  would  no 
longer  be  a  fitting  appellative. 

'  Those  whom  God  hath  joined  together, 
let  no  man  put  asunder. —  I  pronounce  thee 
man  and  wife. —  Amen." 

So  this  was  the  reason!  With  every  one 
talking  and  laughing  at  once,  we  somehow 
came  to  understand  that  an  uncle  of  Harry's, 
over  in  England,  had  died.  The  uncle  had 
not  exactly  left  Harry  a  title  and  an  enor- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      165 

mous  fortune,  as  would  have  happened  in 
"  the  old  three-decker,"  but  he  had  be 
queathed  to  his  nephew  "  a  tidy  little  place 
in  Surrey,"  as  the  young  Englishman  put  it, 
and  there  remained  nothing  for  the  grateful 
legatee  to  do  but  to  go  home  and  live  there. 
And  Baby-- I  mean  Margaret  —  who  had 
not  known  her  own  mind  as  long  as  Harry 
was  within  a  mule-ride  of  her,  had  arrived  at 
the  truth  very  promptly  when  he  came  to  tell 
her  that  he  was  going  thousands  of  miles 
away.  The  steamer  that  had  come  in  from 
Barranquilla  had  brought  the  news  to  Harry; 
everything  had  been  planned  in  a  few  hours; 
Baby  had  absolutely  refused  to  be  married 
in  Santa  Marta  ("horrid,  gossipy  place!" 
she  declared  it),  hence  the  hurried  flitting 
to  "  Las  Selvas."  And  as  for  the  time  set 
for  the  guests'  departure,  the  hosts  themselves 
were  returning  to  Santa  Marta  immediately 
after  the  banquet,  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hunter 
were  to  sail  away  on  the  steamer  that  very 
evening. 

Just  at  twelve  we  sat  down  to  the  Thanks 
giving  dinner,  which  had  so  suddenly  become 
a  wedding  breakfast.  It  must  have  been 
about  fifteen  minutes  later,  I  should  think, 


166     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

when  suddenly  there  was  a  great  clattering 
of  hoofs,  outside,  then  a  quick  step  across 
the  corridor;  the  door  opened  —  and  there 
was  Kent.  Such  a  day  of  exciting  sur 
prises  !  For  the  moment,  the  bride  and 
groom  were  forgotten.  We  all  jumped  up 
and  surrounded  Kent,  shaking  hands,  ex 
claiming  and  asking  questions;  but  he  laugh 
ingly  waved  us  back  to  our  seats,  and  made 
a  place  for  himself  at  the  table,  saying  com 
ically,  "  Tengo  (I  have)  hungry,  mucho 
hungry !  "  We  gave  him,  hastily,  everything 
in  sigst,  and  then  we  demanded  explana 
tions.  Where  had  he  come  from?  How 
did  he  get  here?  Why  hadn't  he  come  be 
fore?  Who  had  told  him  about  the  wed 
ding? —  for  not  a  soul  in  Santa  Marta  had 
known  of  it. 

With  the  quickness  of  light  Kent  stopped 
eating  and  looked  around  the  table  until  his 
eyes  met  mine. 

:' What  wedding?"  he  asked,  keenly. 

There  was  a  chorus  of  shouts,  but  above 
it  Mr.  Anson  finally  succeeded  in  making 
himself  heard. 

"  Mr.  Winthrop,"  he  said,  rising  from  his 
seat,  and  bowing  to  Kent,  and  then  towards 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     167 

Baby  and  Harry;  "I  have  the  pleasure  of 
introducing  you  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry 
Maxwell  Hunter." 

When  Kent  went  around  to  their  end  of 
the  table  and  offered  his  congratulations,  he 
told  Baby  and  Harry  that  he  had  never  been 
more  pleased  in  his  life,  and  I  believe  that 
he  spoke  only  the  literal  truth  when  he  said 
it. 

After  that  we  heard  his  story.  He  had 
come  down  from  Bogota  and  reached  Bar- 
ranquilla  on  Tuesday.  To  have  come  over 
to  Santa  Marta  by  the  usual  way  he  would 
have  had  to  wait  several  days,  so  he  had 
hired  a  covered  canoe  and  had  himself  poled 
over  through  the  canos. 

"  I  was  nearly  eaten  alive  by  mosquitoes," 
he  told  us,  with  a  retrospective  shudder. 
"  Couldn't  stay  inside  the  covered  part,  be 
cause  if  I'd  smoked  in  there  I'd  have  choked, 
so  I  sat  up  in  the  open  end  all  night,  smoking 
to  keep  away  what  I  could  of  the  mosquitoes, 
and  expecting  every  minute  that  I'd  go  to 
sleep  and  drop  overboard,  and  be  quietly 
swallowed  by  an  alligator  in  the  darkness. 
I  got  to  Santa  Marta  this  morning  at  seven 
o'clock,  went  right  to  Anson's,  was  told  every- 


168     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

body  was  up  here,  so  I  got  a  mule  and  came 
on." 

"  But  what  was  your  mad  haste,  my  dear 
fellow,  as  you  knew  nothing  of  the  wedding? 
Why  didn't  you  wait  and  come  over  in  the 
steamer?  It  would  have  been  a  matter  of 
only  a  few  days  longer." 

This  was  from  Don  Roberto.  Kent 
looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "  A  few  days 
longer?"  he  repeated.  "A  few  days 
longer!  Why,  I've  moved  heaven  and  earth 
since  before  I  left  Bogota  to  get  here  for 
Thanksgiving !  " 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  every  one 
began  to  make  preparations  for  departure. 
I  was  ready  before  the  others,  and  I  went 
out  onto  the  corridor  to  wait.  In  a  moment 
or  two  I  was  joined  by  the  disagreeable  Eng 
lishman.  He  does  not  mean  to  be  disagree 
able;  he  was  born  so. 

"  Well,  Miss  Parnell,"  he  said,  "  the  wed 
ding  was  quite  a  surprise,  wasn't  it?" 

"  It  was,  indeed,"  I  agreed  with  him. 

"  But  don't  you  think,  really  now,  that  in 
ternational  marriages  are  hazardous?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  said,  at  once,  combatively; 
"why  should  they  be?" 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     169 

"  Think  of  the  difference  in  associations 
and  national  traditions,"  he  urged.  "  They'd 
always  be  coming  up,  I  fancy,  and  keeping 
the  two  from  entirely  understanding  each 
other,  don't  you  know?  " 

How  irritating  of  the  man  to  voice  what 
had  always  been  exactly  my  own  belief! 
Nothing  in  the  world  would  have  induced  me 
to  say  that  I  thought  as  he  did,  so  I  was 
obliged  to  invent  new  opinions  on  the  spot, 
and  to  turn  all  my  mental  cubby  holes  inside 
out  in  a  hasty  search  for  refuting  arguments. 
It  was  fortunate  that  during  the  past  few 
weeks  I  had  really  and  honestly  been  giving 
the  other  side  of  the  question  a  good  deal 
of  consideration,  for  thus  I  had  something  to 
start  on. 

"  Such  differences  are  entirely  superficial," 
I  began,  assertively.  "  They  could  never 
affect  the  inner  life  of  happily  married  per 
sons.  The  really  essential  elements  of  sym 
pathy  between  two  people  are  far  deeper  than 
similarities  of  early  environment.  Below  the 
unimportant  externals,  men  and  women  are 
very  much  alike,  whatever  their  race  or  coun 
try.  I  am  sure  you  will  admit  that  - 

"  Sefiorita,"     interrupted     Don     Roberto, 


1 70  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

courteously;  "pardon  me,  but  Mrs.  Martin 
is  enquiring  for  you,  indoors." 

'  For  this  relief  much  thanks,'  "  I  mur 
mured  as  I  walked  away  from  the  disagreea 
ble  Englishman;  but  the  next  instant  I  had 
reason  to  change  my  mind. 

"  I  heard  every  voord  you  said,"  Don  Ro 
berto  exulted,  the  moment  we  were  alone; 
"  and  I  never  knew  anything  so  convincing 
in  my  life!  " 

Every  one  was  ready  to  go.  The  Santa 
Marta  people  started  away  first,  Baby  riding 
by  her  husband's  side,  as  though  the  two  were 
already  beginning  life's  journey  together; 
then  we,  calling  after  the  bride  and  groom 
good-byes  and  good  wishes,  turned  our  mules 
westward  and  came  again  across  the  moun 
tain,  back  to  our  own  valley. 

December  jth. 

Kent  has  come  up  to  El  Cafetal  again,  as 
it  seems  that,  in  spite  of  endless  hours  of 
conversation  about  coffee,  he  finds  there  are 
yet  many  aspects  of  that  subject  which  he 
wishes  to  talk  over  with  Mr.  Martin.  He 
has  about  decided  to  buy  land  somewhere 
in  this  region,  and  he  is  going  on  an  explor- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR   171 

ing  expedition  up  the  valley  as  soon  as  the 
dry  season  really  sets  in.  One  thing,  at  least, 
he  has  learned  from  the  trip  to  Bogota,  and 
that  is,  to  make  no  investment  away  from  the 
coast. 

"  At  present,"  Kent  says,  "  the  situation 
of  the  coffee  growers  of  the  interior  is  one 
of  the  most  disheartening  I  ever  knew  in  my 
life.  Think  of  having  fine  crops  all  har 
vested —  thousands  of  bags  ready  for  export 
—  and  absolutely  no  way  of  getting  the  stuff 
down  to  the  coast.  And  it's  now  the  third 
year  of  that  sort  of  thing;  every  coffee  man 
I  met  was  on  the  verge  of  ruin,  if  he  hadn't 
already  gone  under." 

"  The  Magdalena  boats  seem  to  be  run 
ning  pretty  regularly,  now,"  remarked  Mr. 
Martin. 

"  Yes,  the  government  has  given  them  over 
to  the  Company  again,  but  the  freight  charges 
are  enormous;  they're  trying  to  get  back 
something  of  what  they've  lost  by  the  war  - 
making  up  for  lost  time.  It  costs  about  as 
much,  now,  to  get  coffee  from  the  interior 
to  New  York  as  it  brings  when  it  reaches 
there.  Until  just  lately  the  government  has 
controlled  all  the  transportation,  and  the  con- 


i;2  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

sequence  has  been  that  the  coffee  of  particular 
friends  of  those  in  power  has  been  forwarded 
and  the  rest  has  been  put  on  one  side.  All 
the  way  between  Bogota  and  Honda  there  is 
coffee  that  has  been  side-tracked  for  that  of 
some  partisan  of  the  government,  and  in 
Honda,  thousands  and  thousands  of  bags  are 
stored.  It's  been  lying  there  nobody  knows 
how  long,  and  the  grains  are  all  blanqueado 
(white).  If  it  ever  reaches  the  coast  it 
won't  be  fit  to  export,  so  it's  a  dead  loss,  any 
way.  I  met  a  man  in  Bogota  —  a  Colom 
bian  —  owner  of  a  large  plantation,  who  told 
me  that  he  was  actually  thinking  of  offering 
the  government  half  of  his  profits  if  it  would 
guarantee  him  the  safe  shipment  of  his  coffee 
to  New  York.  A  few  foreigners  are  going 
down  from  Bogota  to  Honda  with  each  mule 
cargo  of  their  coffee.  The  government 
doesn't  dare  to  interfere  with  them,  or  seize 
their  mules,  as  it  would  those  of  a  Colom 
bian;  but  even  then  there  are  the  passage 
down  the  river,  and  the  freight  to  be  con 
sidered.  Really,  it's  a  frightful  condition  of 
affairs.  There  are  fine  plantations,  all 
through  the  interior,  selling  for  one-tenth  of 
what  they'd  be  worth  if  the  country  were 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      173 

in  a  settled  state,  and  I  saw  some  haciendas 
that  have  been  entirely  abandoned  —  the 
houses  and  crops  and  thousands  of  dollars* 
worth  of  machinery  going  to  ruin." 

"  But  you  say  you  think  the  revolution  has 
about  played  itself  out  — " 

"  Oh,  yes;  I  don't  see  how  it  can  possibly 
last  any  longer.  The  country  is  utterly  ex 
hausted  in  men,  money,  ships  -  Kent 
laughed,  for  we  have  told  him  the  story  of 
the  navy  and  the  coast  defenders.—  :<  I  really 
think  it's  about  over.  But  that  won't  im 
prove  the  coffee  situation,  in  the  interior. 
The  minute  things  are  in  anything  like  a 
normal  condition  again,  and  the  road  between 
Bogota  and  Honda  isn't  infested  with  guer 
rillas,  and  mules  are  more  or  less  safe  — 
there'll  be  such  a  rush  of  coffee  to  the  coast 
that  there  won't  be  mules  enough  to  carry 
it  to  Honda;  the  river  boats  will  have  more 
than  they  can  handle,  and  they'll  charge  any 
price  they  like.  And  even  after  the  con 
gestion  is  over,  and  things  are  readjusted, 
who  knows  how  long  the  country  is  going 
to  be  quiet?  A  new  revolution  may  break 
out  any  minute,  and  then  you  have  all  the 
trouble  begun  again." 


174     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

"  Graclas  (thanks)  d  Dios,"  said  Mr. 
Martin,  "El  Cafetal  is  where  the  coffee  can 
be  sent  to  the  coast  in  five  hours,  on  our 
own  mules,  revolution  or  no  revolution !  " 

"  Quiero  (I  want)  an  El  Cafetal  of  my 
own,"  declared  Kent. 

His  ear  has  become  familiar  with  all  sorts 
of  Spanish  words  and  phrases  since  he  has 
been  in  Colombia,  and  he  intersperses  his 
conversation  with  them  as  the  children  do 
theirs  with  English,  with  the  same  quaint  and 
comical  results. 

'There's  such  a  lot  of  difference,"  Kent 
observes,  "  between  learning  a  language  in 
school,  and  learning  it  in  the  country  where 
it's  spoken.  On  the  Magdalena  I  picked  up 
the  Spanish  for  alligator  and  monkey  and 
heat  and  mosquito  net,  and  I  know  how  to 
tell  an  arriero  to  saddle  my  mule,  and  what 
"  Alto  ahi!  Qulen  vive? "  means.  But  if 
I  wanted  to  say,  I  have  the  pen,  thou  hast 
the  pen,  he  has  the  pen;  or,  Where  is  the 
book  of  your  father's  sister?  I  couldn't  do  it." 

"That's  just  it,"  I  said;  "you'll  never 
want  to  do  it.  Before  I  went  to  Europe,  I 
had  studied  French,  in  school,  for  years,  and 
I  supposed  I  knew  enough  of  it  to  get  along 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     175 

where  French  was  spoken.  Well,  one  day, 
when  my  aunt  and  I  were  in  Geneva,  we 
wanted  to  take  a  drive  along  the  lake  shore, 
and  before  we  started  I  gave  the  direction 
to  the  coachman.  We  drove  off,  but  in  a 
few  minutes  we  found  that  we  were  going 
straight  back  into  the  country,  away  from 
the  lake  as  fast  as  possible.  We  stopped  the 
driver,  and  I  explained  that  we  wanted  to 
be  near  the  water,  to  see  the  water,  to  enjoy 
the  view  of  the  water,  and  that  we  did  not 
care  to  go  into  the  country,  back  from  the 
town,  away  from  the  water.  The  man 
seemed  to  understand  me,  and  we  drove  on 
again,  but  in  exactly  the  same  direction  as 
we  had  been  going  before.  '  Tell  him,'  said 
my  aunt,  '  that  we  want  to  drive  by  the  lake. 
Surely  you  must  know  the  word  for  lake; 
you  took  the  French  prize  in  school  one 
year,  didn't  you  ?  '  '  Yes,'  I  said,  '  and  of 
course  I  can  say  a  simple  thing  like  that.  He 
is  a  dreadfully  stupid  man,  that  is  all.'  Then 
I  called  again  to  the  driver,  and  I  told  him, 
very  slowly  and  carefully,  that  we  should  be 
pleased  if  he  would  take  us  by  the  lake, 
along  the  lake,  near  the  lake,  around  the 
lake,  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  over  the  lake 


176     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

road,  rather  than  that  which  led  away  from 
the  lake,  back  from  the  lake,  out  of  sight 
of  the  lake,  into  the  country.  It  was  all  of 
no  use.  The  man  was  attentive  and  courteous 
as  possible,  and  he  looked  perfectly  intelli 
gent,  but  our  drive  that  afternoon  was  quite 
apart  from  Lake  Geneva.  '  After  all  the 
money  that  was  spent  on  your  education !  ' 
my  aunt  said  to  me,  reproachfully." 

"  If  you  had  heard  some  one  else,  just 
then,  give  the  directions  for  the  drive  you 
wanted  to  take,"  put  in  Don  Roberto,  "  you 
would  have  known  how  to  do  it  forever 
afterward.  That's  the  way  one  really  learns 
a  language  in  a  foreign  country.  When  I 
was  about  seven  years  old,  before  I  knew  a 
single  word  of  English,  I  was  sent  to  a  school 
in  Devon.  The  first  noon,  at  recess,  I  went 
out  with  the  other  boys  into  a  garden  to  play, 
and  we  ran  about  till  we  were  hot  and  thirsty. 
There  was  a  pail  of  water  on  a  bench,  in 
charge  of  a  boy  who  gave  out  a  dipperful 
to  any  one  who  went  up  and  asked  for  it. 
I  was  awfully  thirsty,  but  I  didn't  know  how 
to  say  that  I  wanted  a  drink,  so  I  choked 
for  a  long  time  in  silence.  Finally  I  couldn't 
stand  it  any  longer;  I  went  over  and  stood 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR  177, 

near  that  bench  until  at  least  a  dozen  boys 
had  come  up,  and  I'd  heard  what  they  said. 
Then  I  knew  how  to  ask  for  a  drink  of 
water  in  English,  and  I  never  forgot  it." 

Last  evening  the  most  curious  thing  hap 
pened  —  something  really  uncanny.  I  have 
read  of  "  thought  transference  "  and  "  tele 
pathy  "  and  "  simultaneous  inspiration  " ;  but 
I  never  really  knew  an  instance  until  last 
night.  We  were  all  writing  answers  to 
some  questions  that  Mrs.  Martin  has:  ques 
tions  such  as  "What  do  you  most  desire?" 
"  What  is  your  favorite  color?  "  :<  Do  you 
prefer  prose  or  poetry?"  Each  one  had 
a  slip  of  paper,  and  as  Mrs.  Martin  read 
the  questions  aloud  we  all  wrote  our  an 
swers,  only  half  a  minute  being  given  for 
each  question;  then  Mrs.  Martin  took  the 
papers  and  read  them  for  all  to  hear.  The 
name  of  the  writer  of  each  slip  was  not 
given,  but  there  were  so  few  of  us  —  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Martin,  Kent,  Don  Roberto  and 
I  —  that  it  was  not  at  all  difficult  to  recog 
nise  each  one.  Among  the  other  questions, 
one  was,  "  What  is  your  idea  of  happiness?  " 
I  wrote,  hastily,  what  first  came  into  my 


178     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

head  -  '  To  be  in  a  new  land."  Then,  just 
as  Mrs.  Martin  had  collected  the  papers  and 
was  about  to  read  them,  the  thought  of  Kent 
came  to  me  —  how  or  why  I  can  not  pretend 
to  explain,  but  it  came  so  insistently  that  I 
cried  to  Mrs.  Martin,  "Oh,  wait!  Please 
let  me  have  my  paper  for  a  moment."  She 
gave  it  back  to  me,  and  to  what  I  had  writ 
ten,  I  added,  " —  with  an  old  friend."  Now, 
just  as  I  asked  for  my  paper  again,  Kent 
begged  for  his.—  "  Please  let  me  have  that 
a  second,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  something  else 
that  I  want  to  put  down."  It  appears  almost 
incredible,  but  when  the  papers  were  read, 
in  answer  to  "  What  is  your  idea  of  happi 
ness?"  -where  I  had  written,  "To  be  in 
a  new  land  —  with  an  old  friend,"  Kent  had 
said,  "To  be  with  an  old  friend  —  in  a  new 
land  ";  and  "  in  a  new  land  "  was  his  hasty 
addition,  as  "  with  an  old  friend  "  was  mine. 
The  others  could  hardly  believe  that  Kent 
and  I  had  written  independently,  and  just  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment;  it  seemed  impos 
sible  that  we  had  not  planned  our  answers 
together.  I  thought  Kent  would  be  pleased 
that  I  had  remembered  him  —  of  course  he  is 
the  only  old  friend  I  have  in  this  new  land  — 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      179 

but  he  said:  '  The  old  friend  was  quite  an 
afterthought,  wasn't  he?"  Don  Roberto 
glowered  at  us  both.  His  answer  to  the 
question  was  -  "  Success  in  what  I  under 
take."  Mrs.  Martin  wrote,  "  That  everyone 
else  may  be  as  happy  as  I  am;"  and  Mr. 
Martin  —  "  To  have  plenty  of  work  that 
I  like  to  do,  and  to  be  well  paid  for  it." 
"That  is  not  original,"  he  confessed;  "but 
I  happened  to  think  of  it,  so  I  put  it  down." 


December  ijth. 

REALLY,  Thanksgiving  day  was  the 
beginning  of  the  dry  season:  we  have 
not  had  a  drop  of  rain  for  over  two 
weeks.  The  weather  is  so  perfect  that  it 
seems  unreal  —  artificial  —  like  wax  apples 
or  peaches  —  and  so  lovely  that  no  one  can 
understand  how  lovely  it  is  who  has  not  lived 
through  its  days.  Once  in  a  while,  at  home, 
there  come  twelve  hours  —  in  June,  perhaps, 
or  early  September  —  at  the  end  of  which 
we  say  (with  a  sigh  of  regret  that  it  is  gone), 
"  This  has  been  a  perfect  day !  "  Here  in 
the  Sierra  Nevadas  we  are  having  weeks  of 
such  days.  It  is  not  hot;  it  is  not  cold;  the 
sun  shines  softly,  and  a  delicious  little  breeze 
blows  steadily;  —  one  might  almost  say 
"  flows,"  for  the  warm,  sweet  air  is  like  a 
current  of  clear  water,  rippling  against  the 
hours  as  they  go  by.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin 
say  that  though  they  have  been  here  ten 
years,  they  do  not  yet  take  the  weather  at 
this  season  as  a  matter  of  course;  each 
1 80 


December  it  comes  as  a  beautiful  surprise. 
This  is  the  time  when  the  roses  are  at  their 
best  —  such  a  wonderful  best !  —  the  "  Amer 
ican  Beauty  "  and  "  La  France  "  are  higher 
than  the  house  and  covered  with  blossoms. 
We  see  great,  gorgeous  butterflies,  now,  and 
all  out-of-doors  is  full  of  birds,  from  the 
tiny  yellow  ones,  to  the  parrots  that  scream 
far  over  our  heads.  Only  the  dearth  of 
angels  keeps  the  country  from  being  a  para 
dise. 

Kent  has  returned  to  Santa  Marta,  but  he 
is  coming  up  again  for  Christmas.  We  are 
going  to  have  a  house  party,  and  even  now 
preparations  for  it  are  going  forward  busily. 
The  carpenters  are  making  furniture  —  beds, 
a  side-board,  dining-room  table  and  chairs,  a 
couch,  book  shelves  —  all  in  a  modified  Mis 
sion  style,  of  native  cedar  wood.  Mr.  Mar 
tin  is  putting  up  ceilings  of  very,  very  heavy 
greyish  blue,  or  old-rose  paper,  divided  into 
great  squares  by  cedar  strips  —  quite  the 
prettiest  things  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw  —  and 
the  side  walls  of  the  rooms  have  been  cov 
ered  with  plain  paper  to  harmonize  with 
the  ceilings.  Mrs.  Martin  and  I  have 
painted  the  chimney  place  a  fine,  homelike 


182     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

dark  red,  and  we  have  had  a  carpenter  make 
mantel  shelves  of  cedar,  like  the  other  wood 
work. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  the  coffee  picking 
and  drying  are  still  going  on,  though  now 
the  harvest  is  drawing  towards  its  close.  It 
is  a  busy,  busy  life,  that  of  a  coffee  grower, 
especially  during  the  first  five  years  of  the 
plantation,  but  it  is  a  life  in  which  the  work 
of  every  day  and  every  month  shows  for 
itself  —  "  something  accomplished,  something 
done;  "  and  I  should  think  that  a  man  who 
has  made  a  coffee  estate  must  have  a  great 
sense  of  satisfaction  as  he  looks  over  the 
finished  result  of  his  labor.  It  seems  to  me 
that  no  work  that  is  done  in  cities  can  com 
pare  with  it. 


December 

Mrs.  Martin  and  I  have  made  a  hurried 
trip  to  Santa  Marta;  we  returned  day  before 
yesterday,  and  Kent  came  up  with  us.  The 
others  of  the  holiday  party  are  to  arrive 
to-morrow  morning. 

We  went  down  to  do  some  Christmas 
shopping,  but  though  our  little  coast  town 
is  not  now  the  centre  of  the  war  area  as  it 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     183 

was  some  weeks  ago,  the  banana  boats  have 
so  recently  begun  to  visit  it  again  that  there 
is  scarcely  anything  in  the  shops.  We  were 
down  only  one  day,  but  that  was  more  than 
enough  thorougly  to  explore  the  "  shopping 
district."  We  took  what  we  could  find  and 
rode  gladly  away  to  the  cool  again.  Yes 
terday  the  arrieros  and  the  cargo  mules  came 
up,  and  the  air  was  full  of  mystery  and  ex 
citement  as  the  mules  were  unloaded  at  the 
store,  and  parcels  were  hurriedly  secreted 
from  the  children's  eyes. 

Kent  went  about  with  us  in  Santa  Marta, 
and  as  we  walked  through  the  heat,  along  the 
narrow,  sandy  streets,  visiting  one  little 
queer,  tropical  shop  after  another,  the  very 
contrast  in  the  surroundings  seemed  to  carry 
the  American's  thoughts  across  the  sea,  so 
that  he  talked  of  nothing  but  the  life  in 
New  York  at  this  holiday  season. 

"  Think  of  Broadway,  now  —  three  days 
before  Christmas,"  he  kept  saying,  perversely. 
"Think  of  Twenty-third  Street  —  or  Fifth 
Avenue,  or  Madison  Square  at  five  o'clock 
on  a  winter  afternoon,  with  the  electric  lights 
blazing  all  over  everything.  See  the  Christ 
mas  crowds  with  their  parcels;  smell  the 


184      COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

trees  and  the  greens,  on  the  sidewalks;  look 
at  the  stands,  and  the  cartloads  of  holly  and 
mistletoe!  Don't  you  wish  you  were  there?  " 
I  really  do  not,  but  I  am  glad  that  some 
one  from  home  —  someone  who  understands 
-  is  here  with  me  at  this  time.  I  suppose 
Don  Roberto  had  real  Christmases  in  Eng 
land;  he  certainly  never  would  have  known 
one  if  he  had  remained  in  Bogota.  I  was 
there  a  year  ago,  and  a  more  homesick  at 
mosphere  I  can  not  imagine. 

Here  at  El  Cafetal  every  nook  and  cranny 
is  pervaded  by  the  Christmas  Spirit,  invoked, 
made  welcome  and  compassed  about  by  La 
Nina  Eva.  When  there  is  no  butter,  some 
women  say,  "  I  am  so  sorry,  but  we  can  not 
have  any  cake."  Mrs.  Martin  says  nothing 
at  all,  but  makes  a  cake  with  lard.  Then  she 
surrounds  the  feast  with  such  sweet  gayety 
that  no  one  thinks  much  of  what  is  on  the 
board  —  one  only  realises,  vaguely,  that 
there  is  plenty  of  cake,  and  that  it  is  a  very 
pleasant  thing  to  be  sitting  there  and  eating 
it.  With  almost  nothing  to  work  with,  La 
Nina  Eva  has  prepared  a  Christmas  for  all 
the  men,  women  and  children  on  the  planta 
tion,  over  one  hundred  in  all,  besides  hav- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      185 

ing  made  presents  for  the  children  of  her 
own  family.  The  people  of  the  finca  are  to 
have  dresses,  or  aprons,  or  coats,  or  dolls,  or 
money,  or  just  bags  of  sweets  and  peanuts, 
according  to  the  length  of  time  they  have 
been  here.  (Making  out  a  list  of  the  people 
and  deciding  what  to  give  them  took  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Martin  a  whole  evening.)  All 
the  bags  have  had  to  be  sewed,  filled  and 
tied  up;  all  the  dolls  cut  out,  stuffed  and 
dressed;  the  dulce  Mrs.  Martin  has  made, 
and  the  peanuts  she  has  roasted.  A  carpen 
ter,  under  Mrs.  Martin's  direction,  has  made 
a  little  bureau,  a  doll's  wardrobe,  a  bed  and 
some  tiny  chairs;  and  La  Nina  Eva,  person 
ally,  has  constructed  a  wooden  horse,  and  so 
covered  it  with  felt  that  no  other  wooden 
horse  ever  looked  so  real.  A  butter  tub  has 
been  converted  into  a  doll's  wash  tub,  and  a 
home-made  wash-board  goes  with  it;  white 
rabbits  the  wonderful  woman  has  evolved 
fron  Canton  flannel;  balls,  of  striped  red  and 
white  cheese  cloth;  candle  holders  for  the 
tree  out  of  odds  and  ends  of  wire.  It  will 
be  seen  how  very  little  we  were  able  to  buy 
in  Santa  Marta;  —  in  fact,  only  raisins,  nuts, 
candles,  some  cotton  dress  goods,  a  few  dates, 


1 86   COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

and  half  a  dozen  Chinese  lanterns.  I  have 
made  cream  date  candy,  but  as  we  have  only 
loaf  sugar,  which  has  to  be  pounded  in  an 
old  Indian  stone  mortar,  the  "  cream  "  is  de 
cidedly  gritty. 

Early  this  morning,  mozos  went  off  into 
the  forest  and  brought  back  quantities  of 
palms,  some  with  roots,  and  some  cut  off 
above  the  ground;  and  this  afternoon  we 
have  all  been  decorating  the  corridor.  We 
have  a  row  of  great  tubs,  filled  with  earth, 
all  along  the  edge  of  the  corridor,  and  into 
these  we  have  put  the  rooted  plants  —  palms 
eight  feet  high,  with  great  fan  leaves  that 
meet  above  our  heads.  In  the  spaces  be 
tween  the  tubs,  hanging  down  from  the  roof 
of  the  corridor,  are  wire  baskets  (Mrs.  Mar 
tin  made  them)  filled  with  moss  and  ferns. 
The  cut  palms  we  have  stacked  in  great 
bunches  in  corners,  and  arranged  in  an  arch 
over  the  doorway;  and  some  will  be  used  to 
decorate  the  sala,  to-morrow  morning. 

The  tree  has  been  cut,  and  is  now  being 
put  up  in  its  place  at  the  end  of  the  sola.  El 
Cafetal  is  not  high  enough  above  the  sea  to 
be  in  the  fir  belt,  so  we  have  no  fragrant, 
spicy  greens,  no  holly,  no  mistletoe,  no  proper 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      187 

Christmas  tree.  Surely  Santa  Claus  will  be 
surprised,  to-night,  when  he  comes  down  the 
chimney  by  way  of  the  fireplace  in  the  sala, 
and  finds  —  a  coffee  tree.  Yet,  really,  aside 
from  the  associations  that  one  has  with  the 
evergreen  family  at  this  time,  the  coffee  tree 
is  particularly  pretty  for  the  purpose.  Ours 
is  about  nine  feet  high,  perfectly  symmetrical, 
with  waxy,  dark  green  leaves,  and  it  is  full 
of  red,  cherry-like  berries.  To-morrow,  the 
sala  will  be  closed  to  the  children,  and  we 
shall  trim  the  tree  and  put  the  presents  on  it. 
Don  Roberto  has  been  here  all  day,  helping 
us.  We  went  down  to  my  garden,  he  and 
I,  this  afternoon,  and  gathered  for  to-mor 
row's  dinner  two  baskets'  full  of  vegetables 
—  tomatoes,  beets,  peas,  cucumbers  and  let 
tuce.  As  we  worked  there  with  each  other, 
pulling  from  the  soil,  and  picking  from  the 
vines,  I  someway  felt  that  we  were  a  little 
closer  together,  a  little  nearer  in  heart  and 
sympathy,  than  we  had  ever  been  before. 

December  28th. 

I  went  to  sleep  Christmas  Eve  thinking 
of  Don  Roberto,  and  I  suppose  it  is  not  un 
natural  that  I  should  have  dreamed  of  him. 


1 88  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Yet  such  a  dream !  I  thought  that  I  had 
been  married  to  him,  but  by  proxy,  so  that 
I  had  not  yet  seen  my  husband.  Then,  I 
was  aware  that  he  had  come;  that  he  was 
waiting  in  another  room,  and  that  I  must  go 
to  him.  I  W7ent,  calmly,  without  any  emo 
tion  whatever,  but  when  I  was  in  the  room, 
and  saw  him  standing  there,  I  instantly  felt 
that  I  did  not  love  him.  My  heart  sank, 
as  the  thought  surged  over  me,  "  I  am  mar 
ried  to  this  man.  There  is  no  escape  — un 
til  death. —  And  I  do  not  love  him!  "  The 
utter  hopelessness  of  it  took  possession  of 
me.  "  It  is  done,"  I  thought.  "  And  it  is 
forever."  Still,  I  walked  across  the  room  to 
meet  him,  as  he  came  towards  me  with  out 
stretched  hand.  I  laid  my  hand  in  his,  think 
ing,  as  I  did  so,  "I  am  his  wife;  it  is  his 
right."  As  he  took  my  hand,  he  drew  me 
to  him,  looking,  meanwhile,  gravely  down 
into  my  face;  then,  drawing  nearer  still,  he 
stooped  and  kissed  me  on  the  lips.  Slowly 
I  lifted  my  face  and  our  eyes  met.  Suddenly, 
my  head  was  on  his  breast,  and  he  was  hold 
ing  me  closely,  so  closely  that  I  could  feel  his 
heart  beating  hard  and  fast.  And  in  that 
moment  I  knew  that  I  did  love  him  —  I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     189 

really  did.  But  it  was  not  for  himself --it 
was  because  of  that  kiss. 

"  Hazardous !  "  I  was  saying  to  myself  as 
I  awoke;  "  very  hazardous!  "  What  is  haz 
ardous,  I  wonder.  To  love?  To  kiss?  Or 
to  love  because  of  a  kiss?  Yes;  that  might 
be.  And  that  reminds  me  of  the  disagree 
able  Englishman's  question:  ;' Don't  you 
think,  really  now,  that  international  marriages 
are  hazardous?  " 

Don  Roberto  was  here  on  Christmas  morn 
ing  by  coffee  time  —  about  seven.  He 
brought  me  a  most  gorgeous  scarf,  made  by 
the  Indians  of  Pueblo  Viejo. 

As  soon  as  we  had  had  coffee,  the  people 
of  the  finca  gathered  in  the  patio,  outside  of 
the  dining-room,  and  their  presents  were  dis 
tributed  to  them.  Besides  the  substantial 
gifts  —  the  dresses  and  coats  and  things  that 
I  have  mentioned  —  every  man,  woman  and 
child  had  a  hot  biscuit  and  a  cooky  —  made 
by  La  Nina  Eva.  Then  we  sent  away  the 
children  and  began  to  trim  the  tree  and  deco 
rate  the  sola.  We  used  quantities  and  quan 
tities  of  palms  and  roses,  and  when  we  had 
finished,  the  room  was  lovely,  but  not  in  the 
least  like  Christmas  —  rather,  it  resembled 


the  chancel  at  a  June  wedding.  The  six 
Chinese  lanterns  we  hung  among  the  palms, 
to  be  lighted  in  the  evening,  with  the  candles 
on  the  tree. 

Almost  by  the  time  the  sala  was  finished, 
our  guests  began  to  arrive  —  from  the  other 
plantations,  first,  and  later,  from  Santa 
Marta.  We  had  almost  the  Thanksgiving- 
wedding  party,  but  we  greatly  missed  Baby 
and  Harry  Hunter  —  they  are  already  set 
tled  on  their  tidy  little  place  in  Surrey. 
About  three  o'clock  we  began  the  Christmas 
dinner,  and  by  the  time  we  had  finished,  the 
sun  was  setting.  As  soon  as  it  grew  dark,  the 
lanterns  and  the  candles  were  lighted,  the  sala 
doors  were  thrown  open,  and  Clara  cried, 
ecstatically,  "  Ya  esta  el  tree!"  (The  tree 
is!)  It  was  the  children's  hour,  but  the 
Olympians  were  not  forgotten.  Among 
other  things  which  came  to  me  was  the  most 
beautiful  hammock  I  ever  saw  —  all  of  pure 
white  cord  and  fringe.  Kent  had  seen  it  at 
Maranguey,  one  of  the  Magdalena  river 
towns,  and  had  brought  it  down  for  me. 

On  Christmas  night  the  plantation  people 
had  one  of  their  native  dances,  which  they 
call  cumbiambas,  and  which  must  be  a  survi- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     191 

val  from  far-off  savage  days --Indian  or 
negro,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  should  think  the 
latter.  The  dance  is  in  the  open  air,  on  some 
flat  space,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  tall  pole, 
surmounted  by  a  lantern.  Men  and  women, 
down  to  young  boys  and  girls  —  there  were 
seventy  or  eighty  of  them  the  other  night  - 
each  with  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  go  in 
couples  in  a  large  circle  around  the  pole,  mov 
ing  forward,  constantly,  with  a  queer,  shuf 
fling,  dancing  step.  Inside  the  circle,  one 
bleats  continuously  on  an  enormous  native 
drum  —  tap,  tap,  tap,  never  stopping  for  an 
instant,  and  that  is  the  only  music  (?)  there  is. 
The  gleam  of  the  lantern  on  top  of  the  pole, 
throws  just  enough  light  to  bring  out  fantastic 
shadows,  swaying  and  circling;  while  the  can 
dles —  glimmering  points  that  swerve  and 
veer  through  the  surrounding  darkness  — illu 
minate  the  swarthy  faces  of  the  dancers. 
Around  and  around  the  pole  they  circle,  untir 
ingly,  the  couples  changing  at  short  intervals, 
as  a  man  or  a  woman  advances  or  falls  back; 
and  hour  after  hour  this  strange,  barbaric  per 
formance  is  continued.  I  should  like  very 
much  to  know  if  the  cumbiamba  is  a  great 
grandfather  of  the  dance  around  a  May  pole. 


iga     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

We  all  went  out  and  watched  the  dance, 
standing,  ourselves,  away  from  the  circle,  far 
back  in  the  shadow.  Over  our  heads  the 
tropic  stars  were  burning  —  the  Cross,  and 
the  dipper  upside  down.  I  felt  a  million 
miles  from  home,  but  I  was  not  homesick; 
rather,  I  was  filled  with  keenest  pleasure  in 
what  was  going  on  around  me.  I  moved 
away  a  short  distance,  better  to  observe  the 
scene  —  the  little  group  of  Caucasians, 
laughing  and  talking  in  the  foreground,  and 
the  throng  of  dancing  red  men  and  negroes, 
beyond  —  and  then  I  stood  there,  wondering 
how  it  is  possible  that  there  are  so  many  peo 
ple  in  the  world  who  do  not  feel  the  joy  of 
travel.  I  thought  of  friends,  at  home,  who 
could  as  well  as  not  have  been  there  with  me, 
but  who,  in  all  probability,  were  wondering, 
on  their  part,  how  I  could  want  to  be  so  far 
away.  I  was  in  a  mood  to  be  in  sympathy 
with  all  things  alien  and  foreign,  when  Don 
Roberto  joined  me. 

"  I've  been  trying  all  day  for  a  word  alone 
with  you,"  he  began  at  once,  hurriedly  — 
"  and  now  it  will  be  only  an  instant.  You 
know  what  I  want  to  say.  You  know  I  love 
you.  I've  loved  you  from  the  beginning  — 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      193 

from  the  day  at  the  fire.  I'd  have  said  so 
long  ago  if  you'd  been  a  Colombian,  but  you 
English  —  Americans  —  it  makes  no  differ 
ence —  you  don't  understand;  you  wouldn't 
have  believed  me.  So  I've  waited  —  six 
months.  Now  tell  me  —  quickly  —  they're 
going  back  to  the  house  —  do  you  care  for 
me  at  all?" 

"  Come,  Miss  Parnell,"  called  Mr.  An- 
son.  "  Come,  Alvarez !  We're  going  in,  to 
dance." 

"  Tell  me !  "  Don  Roberto  insisted,  even  as 
we  turned  to  join  the  others.  "  Just  that  — 
do  you  care  for  me?  " 

If  we  had  had  five  seconds  longer,  I  am  al 
most  certain  that  I  should  have  said,  "Yes; 
I  do."  But  there  was  not  even  an  instant, 
and  I  am  very  glad,  now,  that  it  was  so.  For 
I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  love  Don  Roberto, 
and  I  am  still  less  certain  that  I  am  willing 
to  marry  him,  even  if  I  do  love  him.  There 
are  loves  and  loves,  and  I  do  not  know,  yet, 
that  either  his  or  mine  is  the  kind  that  ought 
to  end  in  marriage.  "  Matrimony  —  is  not 
by  any  to  be  entered  into  unadvisedly  or 
lightly,  but  reverently,  discreetly,  advisedly, 
soberly,  and  in  the  fear  of  God." 


194     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

We  have  talked  this  all  over,  since  Christ 
mas  night.  Don  Roberto  does  not  under 
stand  in  the  least.  I  think  he  wishes  that  I 
were  a  Colombian.  A  little  walking  under  a 
balcony;  an  introduction  to  the  home;  a  few 
calls  in  the  presence  of  the  chaperone;  a  for 
mal  request  for  the  girl's  hand  —  and  all  is 
arranged.  As  for  the  future  of  the  couple  — 
Qulen  sabe? 

January  20th. 

No  rain  for  eight  weeks,  and  my  garden 
is  commencing  to  suffer.  Seeds  that  I  planted 
two  weeks  ago  have  not  come  up,  and  those 
vegetables  —  as  beets,  cabbages,  onions  and 
cauliflowers  —  that  were  in  fine  condition  at 
the  beginning  of  the  dry  season,  are  now 
drooping  and  looking  thirsty.  The  only 
things  that  are  doing  well  are  the  tomatoes; 
the  constant  sunshine  is  good  for  them,  and 
the  plants  are  laden  and  bowed  down  with 
fruit.  The  gardens  are  too  far  from  any 
spring  to  be  watered  artificially,  so  La  Nina 
Eva  and  I  are  now  planting  our  seeds  in 
what  we  call  here  a  "  troje "  —  that  is,  a 
seed-bed  made  in  a  very  large  wooden  frame 
or  box  —  raised  above  the  ground  to  be  out 
of  the  way  of  the  chickens.  We  have  our 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     195 

"  trojes  "  just  back  of  the  house,  by  the  chorro 

—  the  jet  of  water  from  a  spring  in  the  hills 

—  so  we  can  easily  see  to  it  that  the  little 
plants  are  thoroughly  soaked  every  day.     By 
the  time  the  rainy  season  begins  again,  the 
seedlings  will  have  become  large  enough  to  be 
transplanted  into  the  garden  beds.      It  is  now 
that  Mr.  Martin's  prediction  that  I  should 
be  eaten  alive  by  plaga  is  coming  to  pass; 
the  hot  sun  brings  out  the  pests  in  myriads. 
They  do  not  bother  us  at  all  up  by  the  house, 
but  down  in  my  garden  they  nearly  drive  me 
frantic.     Fortunately  they  keep  very  near  the 
ground,  so  that  it  is  only  when  I  stoop  low 
to  do  some  weeding,  or  bend  over  to  pull  up 
some  vegetables,  that  they  are  really  unbear 
able.     I   work   for   a   minute   or  two,   then 
straighten  up  and  flap  my  handkerchief  vigor 
ously,  dispersing  the  swarms  for  the  instant. 
Then  I  weed  a  little  more.     "  I  won't  stop 
till  I  get  to  the  middle  of  the  bed,"  I  tell  my 
self.     But  back  come  all  the  gnats,  bringing 
their  friends  with  them,  and  there  are  days 
when  they  are  so  very,  very  bad  that  I  just 
give  up  and  flee  to  the  house. 

I  begin  to  feel  quite  like  an  arrlera  —  I 
hope  arriera  is  feminine  for  arriero,  but  I  am 


196     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

not  at  all  sure.  Whatever  it  is,  I  feel  like 
one,  because  I  have  "  been  down  "  so  often 
of  late. 

This  time  it  was  to  hunt  the  sportive  alli 
gator.  Mr.  Cunningham  sent  up  to  know  if 
we  would  go  for  two  days  in  the  "  Caima- 
nero  "  and  we  wrote  back  that  indeed  we 
would. 

The  "  Caimanero  "  is  the  tiniest  of  steam 
launches,  and  there  was  room  for  only  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Martin,  Mr.  Cunningham  and  me, 
besides  the  engineer,  and  a  man  who  skins  the 
alligators.  We  left  Santa  Marta  early  Wed 
nesday  morning,  and  returned  Thursday  after 
noon,  so  we  had  nearly  two  days  in  the  canos, 
which  are  very  like  the  St.  John's  River,  in 
Florida.  We  steamed  about,  here  and  there, 
in  creeks  so  winding  and  narrow  that  often 
there  was  scarcely  space  for  our  little  boat  to 
turn,  and  in  many  places  the  trees  almost  met 
overhead;  out  onto  broad  water  where  the 
tide  comes  in  from  the  sea  and  forms  lagoons; 
by  little  islands  covered  with  tropical  thicket 
and  matted  vines,  and  through  sinuous  chan 
nels  of  the  open  everglade  or  cienaga.  Alli 
gators  swarmed  the  water,  and  crawled  out  to 
lie  on  the  banks;  we  shot  at  them,  but  none  of 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      197 

us,  except  Mr.  Cunningham  and  his  men 
succeeded  in  killing  one. 

Late  Wednesday  afternoon  we  were  near 
Pueblo  Viejo,  the  most  aboriginal  Indian  vil 
lage  that  I  have  seen,  except  on  the  Mag- 
dalena.  Some  of  the  huts  are  built  on  piles 
over  low  flats,  out  from  the  mainland;  the  sur 
face  is  flooded  at  high  tide,  and  then  the  as 
pect  of  the  place  is  so  primeval  that  one  seems 
almost  to  be  gazing  on  the  lake  dwellings  of 
prehistoric  times.  The  launch  reached  the 
village  just  at  the  end  of  the  day.  Indians 
were  going  and  coming  over  the  water  in 
canoes  of  great  hollowed  logs;  inside  the 
palm  huts  women  were  cooking  over  little 
fires  between  stones  on  the  mud  floor;  naked 
children  ran  about,  and  gathered  to  watch  us 
as  we  approached,  and  the  whole  scene  was 
saturated  with  the  colored  light  of  a  tropic 
sunset. 

In  this  latitude,  the  twilight  fades  exactly 
as  it  does  in  a  theatre.  No  sooner  has  the 
sun  gone  below  the  horizon  than  the  dark 
ness  begins  to  fall  in  visible  shades,  deeper 
every  second,  just  as  it  does  on  the  stage  when 
the  lights  are  extinguished  in  rapid  succession, 
to  indicate  the  coming  on  of  night. 


I98     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

We  slept  on  board  the  "  Caimanero  " — 
Mrs.  Martin  and  I  in  the  little  cabin,  the 
men  in  hammocks  on  the  deck.  Just  before 
daybreak  I  awoke,  and  getting  up  softly,  I 
went  to  the  tiny  window  and  looked  out. 
Everything  was  very  still,  except  for  just  a 
whisper  of  wind,  heralding  the  dawn,  and  now 
and  then  a  little  splash,  as  an  alligator  moved 
through  the  water  near  the  side  of  the  boat. 
The  Indian  village  was  yet  asleep;  I  looked 
over  towards  it,  and  wondered  as  to  the  na 
ture  of  the  dreams  of  a  prehistoric  lake 
dweller.  Above  us,  the  stars  were  already 
beginning  to  wink  out,  and,  near  the  southern 
horizon,  the  Cross  had  "  swung  low  to  the 
morn."  I  waited  by  the  window  until  the 
first  pink  light  came  into  the  sky,  and  the 
pueblo  commenced  to  stir  in  its  sleep.  Pres 
ently  an  Indian  boy  came  out  from  a  hut,  went 
to  the  water,  and  taking  one  of  the  smaller 
canoes,  paddled  a  little  distance  away;  in  a 
moment  or  two  I  saw  that  he  was  catching 
fish.  By  this  time  the  world  was  growing 
wide  awake,  and  before  long  we  were  all  out 
of  doors,  and  Mr.  Cunningham  was  buying 
the  Indian's  fish  for  an  American  breakfast. 
A  little  later,  before  steaming  off  into  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     199 

caiios  again,  we  walked  through  a  grove  of 
cocoanut  palms  —  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  majestic  things  in  all  nature.  I  must  ad 
mit,  however,  that  one's  thoughts  are  some 
what  distracted  from  the  cathedral  solemnity 
of  such  a  spot  by  the  enormous  land  crabs  that 
go  rattling  about  almost  under  one's  feet, 
trying  to  scuttle  out  of  sight  into  their  holes 
in  the  ground. 

When  we  came  back  to  El  Cafetal,  after 
the  alligator  hunt,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anson,  and 
Kent  accompanied  us,  and  a  day  or  two  later 
we  all,  with  Don  Roberto,  went  off  on  a  camp 
ing  party,  over  some  land  that  Kent  has  de 
cided  to  buy.  The  tract  is  just  beyond  El 
Cafetal,  not  far  away,  as  the  crow  flies,  but 
very  difficult  to  penetrate,  on  account  of  the 
dense  forest.  We  took  with  us  men  with 
machetes  to  cut  away  the  undergrowth,  and 
more  men  to  carry  our  blankets  and  food. 

"  Why  are  you  providing  such  quantities  of 
provisions?"  I  said  to  Mr.  Martin.  '  I 
should  think  you  were  preparing  for  a  trip  to 
Central  Africa." 

"  Think  of  all  the  mozos  who  are  going 
with  us,"  he  returned;  "  there  must  be  some 
thing  for  them  to  eat,  you  know." 


200      COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

'  Why  do  you  take  so  many  men?  "  I  per 
sisted.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  need  so  many." 

"  But  just  look  at  all  the  food  there  is  to  be 
carried,"  explained  Mr.  Martin. 

We  rode  mules  as  far  as  the  edge  of  our 
own  clearings;  then  we  began  slowly  to  make 
our  way  on  foot.  The  hills  in  this  section  are 
a  network  of  paved  Indian  roads,  but  so  many 
years  have  passed  since  these  were  laid  down, 
that  the  forest  has  grown  over  them,  and  the 
pavement  is,  to  a  great  extent,  covered  with 
vegetation.  In  the  middle  of  many  of  the 
roads  there  are  growing  trees  of  four  or  five 
feet  in  diameter,  unimpeachable  witnesses  to 
the  hundreds  of  years  that  have  gone  by 
since  the  last  red  man  passed  that  way.  A 
great  part  of  the  trail  from  Santa  Marta 
up  to  El  Cafetal  is  one  of  the  old  Indian 
roads  reopened,  and  every  time  we  come  up 
we  ride  for  some  distance  over  the  original 
stone  pavement.  The  same  route  goes  on, 
past  our  estate,  across  the  valley  and  over  the 
ridge  into  the  valley  of  the  Rio  Cordova,  and 
it  was  by  this  way  that  we  entered  the  forest 
and  began  our  climb  up  the  slope.  The 
men  with  the  machetes  went  first,  cutting  and 
slashing  at  vines,  hanging  roots,  and  what 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     201 

we  call  "  monte  " —  low,  thick  vegetation  — 
and  as  far  as  possible  clearing  the  path;  but 
even  then  our  progress  was  exceedingly  slow 
and  difficult.  I  conceived  that  we  were  a 
company  of  the  early  Spanish  explorers,  driv 
ing  these  Indians  before  us,  urging  them  ever 
on  and  on,  in  our  mad,  insatiable  desire  to  find 
gold.  Each  morning  we  began  the  march, 
certain  that  before  nightfall  we  should  come 
upon  El  Dorado,  and  each  evening  we  were 
forced  to  accept,  bitterly,  another  day's  disap 
pointment.  But  always  we  pushed  on,  fur 
ther  and  further  into  the  interior,  week  after 
week,  and  month  after  month,  leaving  the 
coast  and  the  Sierra  Nevadas  far  behind  us, 
until  at  last,  having  crossed  the  Andes,  we 
came  out  on  a  plateau  nearly  nine  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  there  we  built  the 
city  of  Santa  Fe  de  Bogota. 

Having  thus  founded  the  capital  of  Co 
lombia,  I  returned  to  these  mountains,  and 
now  I  tried  to  imagine  all  this  forest  gone, 
the  Indian  roads  open,  and  the  red  men  go 
ing  back  and  forth  over  the  country.  Here 
I  had  no  history  or  records  to  guide  me,  and 
I  was  at  once  lost  in  a  maze  of  uncertainty 
and  conjecture.  I  can  not  understand,  for  in- 


202     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

stance,  what  need  those  Indians  had  of  such 
broad,  well-made  thoroughfares.  Why  were 
not  ordinary,  narrow  trails  sufficient?  These 
roads  of  theirs  were  so  good  that  they  were 
like  military  roads,  if  one  considers  their  qual 
ity  with  reference  to  the  quality  of  the  Indian 
civilisation.  By  this  I  mean  that  as  the  mil 
itary  roads  of  Germany,  for  example,  are  to 
the  German  civilisation,  so  these  roads  of  the 
Sierra  Nevadas  were  to  what  we  suppose  to 
have  been  the  civilisation  of  the  primitive 
Indian  of  this  region.  And  that  is  to  say  that 
the  highways  of  the  Indian  were  far  better 
in  proportion  to  his  status  among  the  world's 
people  than  are  the  highways  of  our  country 
to  the  status  of  the  United  States.  The  In 
dians  of  those  times  must  have  been  very  dif 
ferent  from  any  Colombian  Indians  of  to-day. 
These  have  no  mode  of  life  that  calls  for  well- 
made  lines  of  travel,  in  the  first  place,  and 
they  have  no  quality  of  character  that  would 
induce  so  much  labor,  even  if  good  thorough 
fares  would  be  an  advantage  to  them.  Peo 
ple  who  do  not  keep  even  their  own  homes 
in  right  condition,  or  who  will  not  take  the 
trouble  to  plant  a  little  garden  about  their 
ranches,  when  the  ground  and  the  seeds  are 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR  203 

freely  offered  to  them  —  would  certainly 
stand  aghast  at  any  notion  of  road-building. 

The  first  night  in  the  forest  we  slept  very 
comfortably  in  our  blankets,  for  we  were  not 
yet  high  enough  to  feel  much  wind,  and  the 
great  camp  fire  kept  us  sufficiently  warm; 
but  the  second  night,  when  we  bivouacked 
within  sight  of  the  snow-line,  the  wind  blew 
howlingly,  and  the  blankets  seemed  to  be 
made  of  cobwebs.  It  was  hard  to  believe 
that  twenty  miles  —  five  hours  —  away,  peo 
ple  were  sweltering,  with  electric  fans  whir 
ring  at  the  bedsides  of  those  who  were  lucky 
enough  to  have  them.  It  is  a  very  simple 
matter,  in  this  region,  to  change  one's  climate, 
yet  I  remember  that  a  woman  in  Bogota  once 
said  to  me,  rather  enviously,  "  You  of  the 
north  have  not  to  travel  about  for  a  change 
of  temperature:  you  can  stay  in  one  place, 
and  heat  and  cold,  in  succession,  come  to  your 
own  homes !  " 

The  woman  had  never  been  further  from 
Bogota  than  Villete,  and  could  have  no  con 
ception  of  a  New  Yorker's  constant  flitting 
from  Palm  Beach  to  an  Adirondack  camp, 
from  Tuxedo  to  Los  Angeles,  from  Newport 
to  the  Riviera.  Her  idea,  however,  had 


204     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

struck  me  as  being  a  grandly  simple  and 
majestic  one:  —  the  notion  that  a  human  be 
ing  might  abide,  calmly  and  tranquilly,  like 
a  god,  while,  for  his  comfort,  the  ever-chang 
ing  seasons  swept  by  untiringly. 

We  were  two  nights  and  nearly  three  days 
on  our  little  expedition,  but  the  first  day  was 
mainly  a  going  forth,  and  the  third  day  a 
returning,  so  it  happened  that  into  the  second 
day  were  crowded  most  of  the  incidents  and 
adventures.  It  was  early  on  that  morning 
that,  as  I  was  stumbling  along,  of  a  sudden 
at  least  a  pint  of  cold  water  was  poured  upon 
me  from  above,  and  as  the  icy  stream  ran 
down  my  back,  I  was  aware  that  I  had  inad 
vertently  tipped  over  a  water  plant.  The 
thing  looks  rather  like  a  cabbage,  and  it  grows 
like  an  orchid  on  the  trunks  and  branches 
of  trees.  To  the  natives  it  is  a  natural  water 
jar  from  which  they  drink  when  they  are 
thirsty  in  the  woods. 

Next  —  to  his  inexpressible  pride  and  de 
light,  Kent  shot  a  tapir.  All  along  one  of 
the  slopes  to  the  east  of  the  valley  there  is 
a  beaten  track,  worn  and  kept  open  by  the 
passing  and  repassing  of  tapirs,  of  which 
there  are  so  many  there  that  the  situation  is 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     205 

called  Danta  (tapir)  Ridge.  Once  or  twice, 
in  the  night,  we  had  heard  their  shrill,  whis 
tling  cry,  and  as  we  had  gone  over  their  trail 
we  had  observed  a  great  many  traces  of  the 
animals  —  their  tracks,  especially  the  nest- 
like  beds  which  they  make  in  the  grass;  but 
we  knew  that,  numerous  though  they  are,  they 
are  almost  never  encountered,  so  we  had  had 
no  idea  of  seeing  one.  It  happened,  how 
ever,  that  as  we  were  making  our  way  along 
a  bit  of  comparatively  open  road,  a  great, 
dark  form  crossed  the  path  directly  in  front 
of  us,  and  in  the  few  seconds  that  the  animal 
was  before  him  Kent  shot  it.  I  had  learned 
that  the  tapir  is  between  the  elephant  and  the 
pig  in  the  zoological  family,  and  someway  I 
had  fancied  that  it  was  about  the  size  of  a 
wild  boar;  I  was  very  much  surprised,  there 
fore,  to  find  that  tapirs  are  nearly  as  large 
as  mules.  The  men  with  us  said  it  was  for 
tunate  that  Kent  had  killed  the  animal  rather 
than  only  wounded  it,  as,  though  the  tapir 
avoids  mankind  as  far  as  possible,  it  is  dan 
gerous  when  it  is  brought  to  bay. 

So,  that  second  day,  we  kept  on,  still  over 
the  route  of  the  old  Indian  road  from  Santa 
Marta;  now  for  some  distance  along  a  clear 


206     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

piece  of  pavement,  and  then  through  such  un 
dergrowth  that  in  an  hour  we  had  advanced 
scarcely  two  hundred  feet,  and  without  the 
machetes  any  progress  would  have  been  im 
possible.  We  climbed  and  scrambled  and 
made  our  difficult  way,  and  we  were  getting 
well  tired  when  we  came  upon  some  discov 
eries  that  at  once  rendered  our  fatigue  as  if  it 
had  never  been. 

Unknowingly  we  had  accomplished  a  pil 
grimage;  for,  of  a  sudden,  there  before  us, 
exactly  in  the  course  of  the  road  over  which 
we  were  going,  stood  an  altar.  I  am  not  sure 
how  the  others  felt  about  it,  but  I  was  not  in 
the  least  surprised.  Of  course  I  had  not  been 
aware  of  the  altar's  existence,  and  I  could 
not  have  expected  to  see  anything  of  the  kind; 
but  when  it  was  before  me,  it  seemed  so  en 
tirely  natural  and  fitting  that  it  should  be 
there  that  it  was  almost  with  a  sense  of  rec 
ognition  that  I  approached  it.  Here,  then, 
was  one  purpose,  at  least,  for  which  the  long, 
well-paved  road  had  been  made  —  to  lead  up 
to  the  red  men's  sanctuary.  Oh,  to  go  back, 
if  only  for  one  hour,  to  the  time  when  this 
place  was  the  scene  of  religious  ceremonials ! 
To  be  able  to  see  the  Indians  coming  up  from 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     207 

the  valleys  to  worship  here ;  to  know  the  man 
ner  of  their  service,  and  what  were  the  sacri 
fices  that  they  offered.  Their  altar  is  of 
stone;  it  is  five  feet  high;  the  sides  converge 
a  little  towards  the  flat  top,  which  is  five  feet 
square.  On  this  surface,  back  of  the  centre, 
is  a  flat  stone,  two  feet  square,  and  fifteen 
inches  high.  On  two  sides  of  the  altar  are 
steps  laid  up  with  stone,  and  the  paved  road 
leads  directly  up  these  steps  on  one  side,  and 
down  the  steps  on  the  other  side.  Then  the 
road  goes  on,  over  the  ridge,  down  into  the 
next  valley,  and  I  do  not  know  how  much 
further. 

At  that  point  we  left  the  route  which  we 
had  followed  ever  since  starting  from  El  Caf- 
etal,  and  instead  of  going  on  over  what  I 
call  the  Santa  Marta  Indian  Road,  we  turned 
south,  keeping  along  the  ridge  between  the 
two  valleys.  After  a  time  we  fell  in  with  an 
other  of  the  old  paved  ways;  this  crossed  the 
ridge  at  right  angles,  and  going  down  into  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Cordova,  joined  the  Santa 
Marta  route.  Branching  off  from  this  second 
road  was  a  third,  and  just  at  the  intersection 
of  these  two  we  came  upon  a  stone  anchor. 
After  the  discovery  of  the  altar,  I  think  we 


208     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

had  all  been  in  rather  an  expectant  frame  of 
mind,  and  that  no  one  felt  that  it  was  any 
more  than  he  had  been  looking  for  when  we 
found  another  material  reminder  of  the  life 
of  the  Indian  of  centuries  ago.  The  anchor 
was  made  in  two  parts  —  the  shank,  which  is 
nine  feet  long,  and  the  curved  arms  which  are 
ten  feet  from  point  to  point;  between  these 
sections  runs  the  Indian  road.  Why  the  an 
chor  is  there;  for  what  purpose  it  was  made; 
what  it  means,  and  why  the  road  runs  through 
it,  rather  than  around  it,  are  questions  that 
one  can  only  ask  and  never  answer. 

If  the  altar  be  taken  to  symbolise  faith, 
and  the  anchor  hope,  we  might  very  reasona 
bly  have  looked  for  a  heart  as  the  next 
form  of  Indian  remains;  but  the  old  braves 
either  had  no  charity  to  typify,  or  they 
thought  a  heart  of  stone  too  obvious  an  in 
consistency,  for  the  last  traces  of  them  that 
we  met  —  on  the  branch  road,  further  along 
the  ridge  —  were  a  stone  seat,  about  fifteen 
inches  square,  and  a  large  clay  jar.  The  lat 
ter  is  almost  intact,  and  has  on  one  side  a 
grotesque  face,  with  two  hands  holding  some 
thing  to  the  mouth  —  the  whole  probably  in 
tended  to  represent  a  person  in  the  act  of 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR  209 

drinking.  Kent  claimed  the  jar  as  having 
been  found  near  the  land  that  he  is  going  to 
purchase.  He  had  it  taken  with  great  care 
back  to  El  Cafetal,  and  then  he  gave  it  to 
me. 

It  is  said  that  really  to  know  a  person  one 
must  travel  with  him.  That  is  true  —  I  have 
tried  it.  On  a  long  journey  people  either 
grow  very  near  to  one  another  or  else  they 
quarrel.  Now,  as  ordinary  travelling  is  to 
the  stay-at-home  conditions  of  life,  so  is  a 
camping  party  to  ordinary  travelling.  As  a 
month  of  travel  equals  a  year  at  home,  so  a 
day  of  camping  equals  a  month  of  travel. 
Stay-at-homes  know  one  another  about  as  they 
care  to  know  and  be  known;  travellers  know, 
whether  they  care  or  not;  and  campers  more 
than  know  —  they  feel.  There  is  something 
about  the  forest  that  seems  to  reduce  a  per 
son  to  his  lowest  terms;  to  show  him  exactly 
as  he  is,  without  veneer  of  any  kind.  The 
free,  unconventional  life  loosens  restraints, 
and  the  true  man  is  discovered.  The  charac 
ter  thus  revealed  may  be  higher  or  lower 
than  that  which  has  hitherto  appeared,  but  at 
least  it  is  the  real  nature. 

I  really  do  not  know  much  more  about  Don 


210     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Roberto  than  I  was  aware  of  before  we  went 
into  the  woods,  yet  I  certainly  feel  less  in  sym 
pathy  with  him  than  I  did  a  week  ago.  I  try 
to  find  the  reason  for  this,  and  I  review  every 
word  and  action  of  his  during  the  three  days' 
trip;  but  I  can  think  of  only  one  small  thing 
that  may  explain  the  alienation.  A  moth  was 
flying  about  his  face;  it  annoyed  him;  he 
caught  it  by  one  wing  and  held  it  over  the 
fire  until  it  was  burned  to  death.  That  is  all; 
yet  I  feel,  now,  that  if  I  married  Don  Ro 
berto  I  should  never  want  to  be  far  away  from 
a  United  States  Consul,  to  whom  I  could  ap 
peal  in  case  of  need  —  in  case  I  should  at  any 
time  want  to  go  home.  The  impression  is 
absurd  —  irrational;  there  has  been  no  ade 
quate  cause  for  it.  It  may  wear  off,  and  I 
hope  it  will-- I  want  to  be  able  to  care  for 
him. 

February  2Jth. 

Ash  Wednesday. 

Hardly  were  the  Christmas  festivities  over 
when  the  people  of  the  finca  began  to  enact 
the  mummeries  of  the  carnival  season.  For 
weeks,  now,  the  children  and  the  house  serv 
ants  have  been  getting  themselves  up  in  fan 
tastic  garbs,  and  carrying  about  with  them 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     211 

bottles  filled  with  colored  water  which  they 
have  been  throwing  all  over  one  another's 
clothes.  In  this  part  of  the  world  the  colored 
water  takes  the  place  of  the  flowers  and  con 
fetti  of  New  Orleans  and  southern  Europe; 
and  the  more  popular  one  is,  here,  the  greater 
the  quantity  of  tinted  liquid  is  poured  on  one's 
garments.  If  a  sefiorita  is  pretty,  the  young 
men  all  dash  their  colored  water  at  her,  and 
the  girl  whose  white  gown  is  the  most  stained 
is  the  belle  of  the  carnival.  The  great  day  of 
the  season  is  Carnival  Sunday  —  the  Sunday 
before  Lent  —  but  for  two  or  three  weeks 
previous  to  that  time,  and  on  Monday  and 
Tuesday,  right  up  to  Ash  Wednesday,  the 
fun  and  frolic  are  going  on.  In  Barran- 
quilla  and  Santa  Marta  there  have  been  pro 
cessions  in  the  streets,  and  every  night  balls 
have  been  given.  Towards  the  last  —  that 
is,  on  Sunday  and  Monday  and  Tuesday  — 
the  people  gave  themselves  up  wholly  to 
gaiety  and  revels.  No  business  was  thought 
of;  the  shops  were  closed;  the  streets  were 
thronged;  all  the  young  people  dressed  in 
fancy  costumes;  the  men  went  around  from 
house  to  house,  some  on  foot,  some  in  car 
riages;  the  young  girls  peeped  coyly  out  from 


212     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

behind  shutters,  or  window  bars,  or  half- 
closed  doors;  and  at  every  sight  of  them  the 
gallants  threw  the  colored  water  from  the 
bottles. 

Here  on  the  plantation,  as  I  have  said,  the 
children  and  the  servants  have  been  making 
merry  for  weeks  past;  and  for  three  days 
the  place  looked  as  if  Elf-land  had  broken 
loose  over  it,  as  the  masqueraders  ran  about, 
chasing  one  another  with  shrieks  of  laughter, 
and  throwing  colored  water  by  the  quart. 
Sunday  evening  the  people  had  a  dance  in  one 
of  the  ranches,  and  Kent  and  I  went  for  a 
while  to  look  on.  In  the  one  room  of  the  hut 
glimmered  three  candles,  dimly  lighting  the 
centre,  and  leaving  the  corners  in  darkness. 
After  the  dancing  began,  the  air  was  thick 
with  dust  from  the  earth  floor,  so  that  we  saw 
the  men  and  women  in  a  haze,  moving 
through  their  strange  steps  and  figures,  and 
throwing  quaint  shadows  on  the  mud  walls. 
The  big  drum  of  the  cumbiamba  was  beaten 
continuously  by  an  Indian  just  without  the 
door  of  the  rancho,  while  a  boy  rattled  what 
they  call  a  chucho  —  a  long,  hollow  gourd, 
with  beans  or  shot  that  clatter  around  inside 
when  the  thing  is  shaken.  Kent  and  I 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      213 

watched  the  scene  for  only  a  half  hour  or  so, 
but  the  people  kept  on  dancing  till  long  after 
midnight  —  in  fact,  when  I  woke  up  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  heard  the  big 
drum  still  sounding. 

Don  Roberto  went  over  to  Barranquilla 
for  the  Carnival  week.  He  tried  to  persuade 
Mrs.  Martin  and  me  to  go,  too,  but  neither 
of  us  cared  anything  about  it,  and  he  went 
alone.  He  says  he  has  been  over  every  year 
since  he  came  from  England:  I  suppose  it  is 
to  him  what  the  Fourth  of  July,  for  instance, 
is  to  us,  except  that  there  is  nothing  patriotic 
about  it.  It  would  be  difficult,  I  should  think, 
for  a  Colombian  to  have  any  feeling  of  pa 
triotism  ;  yet  it  is  the  lack  of  it  that  is  the  curse 
of  the  land.  Not  long  ago  Kent  quoted 
Stephen  Decatur's  toast,  given  at  Norfolk  in 
1816:  — 

"Our  country!  In  her  intercourse  with 
foreign  nations,  may  she  always  be  in  the 
right;  but  right  or  wrong  —  our  country!" 

Don  Roberto  said,  frankly,  that  that  was 
a  sentiment  he  could  not  in  the  least  under 
stand. 

"  I  can't  fancy  myself  enthusing  over  any 
country  just  because  I  happened  to  be  born  in 


214     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

it,"  he  declared.  u  If  it's  good  I  don't  mind 
standing  by  it,  but  if  it's  bad,  as  this  one  is, 
it  can  go  to  the  dogs  for  all  I  care.  As  soon 
as  I've  made  money  enough  here,  I'm  going 
to  leave  it,  anyway."  But  after  a  moment  he 
added  -  "  I  believe,  though,  it's  that  '  right 
or  wrong  '  policy  that  has  made  England  what 
it  is." 

He  came  back,  yesterday,  from  Barran- 
quilla,  very  much  a  Colombian,  socially,  if  not 
politically.  He  went  to  a  ball  every  night 
while  he  was  in  the  town,  and  he  drove  about 
all  day  in  a  carriage  with  three  other  young 
men,  throwing  colored  water  and  thoroughly 
enjoying  himself.  He  protests  that  he  was 
wishing  all  the  time  that  I  was  there;  but  I 
wonder  what  he  would  have  done  if  I  had 
been.  I  know  what  I  would  not  have  done ! 

Kent  has  come  to  stay  here  at  El  Cafetal 
for  some  weeks  while  he  supervises  the  work 
which  has  already  begun  on  his  land,  up  the 
valley.  Both  he  and  Mr.  Martin  have  gangs 
of  mozos  felling  trees  by  the  acre;  and  some 
of  our  men  are  "tumbling  (as  they  call  it 
here)  so  near  the  house  that  we  can  see  the 
great  trunks  sway  and  fall,  and  hear  the 
crash  as  they  come  to  the  ground.  After  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     215 

trees  are  cut  down,  and  have  lain  for  a  while 
in  the  unbroken  sunshine  of  the  dry  season, 
they  are  set  on  fire,  and  the  tracts  of  land  are 
"  burned  over."  For  days  and  days  together 
the  air  is  full  of  smoke,  and  there  is  a  pleas 
ant  smell  of  burning  wood;  after  the  night 
falls  we  see  wide  spaces  of  the  darkness 
swept  by  flames,  and  the  light  of  them  goes 
up  to  the  stars.  I  remember  about  a  year 
ago,  when  I  had  first  come  to  Santa  Marta, 
and  was  just  beginning  to  know  of  the  coffee 
plantations  in  the  higher  lands,  I  stood,  one 
evening,  out  on  the  balcony  of  the  hotel,  look 
ing  up  towards  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  As  it 
grew  dark,  a  bright  light  showed  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  afterwards,  for  hours,  I 
watched  a  fire  on  some  plantation  —  perhaps 
it  was  El  Cafetal.  These  conflagrations  go 
on  until  at  last  they  burn  themselves  out,  and 
there  remain  only  charred  stumps,  and  a  thick 
layer  of  ashes  over  the  ground.  Then  the 
land  lies  open  and  empty;  what  was  once  the 
theatre  of  the  human  affairs  of  the  red  man 
is  now  ready  for  those  of  his  pale-face  suc 
cessor.  It  is  a  grand  thing,  I  think  —  this 
working  directly  with  nature,  face  to  face; 
clearing  away  the  forest;  letting  in  the  sun; 


216     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

planting  the  coffee  trees;  making  an  estate. 
It  seems  so  much  finer  to  be  at  this  end  of  the 
venture  than  at  the  market  end. 

The  coffee  harvest  is  all  over  for  this  year; 
the  last  berries  have  been  picked;  the  last 
beans  have  been  dried,  and  all  the  bags,  each 
containing  one  hundred  pounds,  have  gone  on 
the  mules  down  to  Santa  Marta,  and  thence 
abroad. 

The  revolution  really  seems  to  have  come 
to  an  end  at  last  —  to  have  collapsed  as  un 
expectedly  as  it  began,  three  years  ago.  It 
is  said  that  Sefior  Reyes  is  coming  back  from 
Europe,  and  optimistic  ones  are  full  of  hope 
that  in  that  statesman,  general  and  explorer 
all  parties  are  going  to  unite,  and  that  Co 
lombia  is  now  to  be  a  land  of  peace  and  con 
cord,  with  everybody  holding  hands,  and  no 
one  caring  who  holds  the  key  of  the  treasury. 
That  is  the  preferred  and  popular  sentiment 
at  the  moment,  but  in  the  midst  of  this  gen 
eral  enthusiasm  there  are  yet  some  discerning 
persons  who  hold  that  another  conflict  is  very 
near.  Indeed,  it  is  a  matter  of  wonderment 
to  us  of  the  coast  that  Bogota  does  not  seem 
to  hear  the  very  distinct  rumblings  of  thunder 
that  are  coming  from  the  Department  of  Pan- 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      217 

ama.  What  are  they  thinking  of,  up  there  at 
the  capital,  that  they  continue  to  bluff,  and  to 
evade,  and  to  act  as  they  are  acting  in  re 
gard  to  the  canal  treaty?  Do  they  suppose 
that,  even  if  the  United  States  submits  to  the 
insolence  of  such  treatment — (at  least  it 
would  be  insolence  if  Colombia  were  a  respon 
sible  power  instead  of  the  spoiled-child  gov 
ernment  that  it  is)  —  do  they  imagine  for 
one  moment  that  Panama  is  going  to  be  quiet 
if  there  is  no  ratification  of  some  favorable 
canal  treaty?  The  most  phlegmatic  people 
in  the  world  would  not  accept  calmly  such  a 
blow  to  their  well-being,  and  still  less  will 
Panama  do  so  —  Panama  with  revolution 
in  her  very  blood.  That  Department  is  say 
ing,  now,  openly,  that  if  there  be  no  canal 
treaty  it  will  secede  from  the  Republic  of  Co 
lombia  ;  and  yet  the  Congress  at  Bogota  goes 
blindly  on  with  its  policy  of  postponement  and 
probable  rejection. 

One  of  the  last  acts  of  the  war  in  this 
coast  region  was  the  seizing  of  the  little 
"  Caimanero  "  of  our  alligator  hunt,  and  the 
cutting  off  of  the  engineer's  head  with  a  mach 
ete,  right  before  his  family's  eyes.  It  hap 
pened  a  month  ago,  but  we  have  just  heard  of 


2i 8  COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

it.  Though  it  is  no  worse  than  hundreds  of 
other  acts  of  the  revolution,  it  seems  more  ap 
palling  to  us  because  we  knew  the  engineer, 
and  had  so  lately  taken  that  trip  through  the 
canos  with  him. 

March   loth. 

It  is  very,  very  dry  in  these  days  —  so  dry 
that  the  world  is  parched  and  seared,  and  a 
thick  white  dust  has  settled  over  everything. 
It  is  terribly  hard  on  the  gardens;  I  am  so 
sorry  for  them,  and  I  would  do  anything  to 
give  them  the  water  they  are  begging  for. 
The  dry  season  is  heavenly  when  it  first 
comes,  but,  now,  after  three  months  of  sun, 
it  is  going  to  be  heavenly  to  have  the  rain 
fall  again.  "  I  am  sick  of  endless  sunshine," 
I  believe,  just  as  Mr.  Kipling  was,  when  he 
longed  for  "  the  spring  in  the  English  lanes." 

My  tomatoes  are  receiving  a  great  deal  of 
praise  and  admiration  just  now,  simply  be 
cause  they  love  the  dry  season,  and  thrive  in 
it.  The  commendation  is  manifestly  unjust, 
as  the  tomatoes  deserve  no  credit  at  all  for 
doing  exactly  what  they  like  to  do,  and  being 
prosperous  and  happy  in  the  midst  of  circum 
stances  that  literally  suit  them  down  to  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      219 

ground.  "  Be  good  and  you  will  be  happy  " 
is  very  well,  and  very  true ;  but  the  other  way 
around  is  true,  also:  Be  happy;  and  if  you 
are  not  good  there  is  no  excuse  for  you. 

"  Yes,"  says  Kent;  "  but  some  people  who 
ought  to  be  good,  because  they  have  so  much 
to  make  them  happy,  are  yet  selfish  and  un 
profitable;  and  some  people  are  never  happy, 
no  matter  how  much  they  have."  (Here  he 
reminds  me  of  two  or  three  persons  whom 
we  both  know,  at  home,  who  really  possess 
everything  that  any  one  could  reasonably  wish 
for,  but  who  are  constantly  fretting.) 

— "  If  I  were  you,"  he  advises  me,  "  I 
wouldn't  be  so  cynical  and  captious  in  regard 
to  those  tomatoes,  for  at  least  they  know  when 
they  are  well  off." 

This  is  quite  true,  now  that  I  think  of  it; 
and  the  tomatoes  certainly  merit  approbation, 
in  that,  at  least,  they  appreciate  their  bless 
ings,  and  are  making  the  most  of  their  advan 
tages.  For  this  I  can  consistently  be  grateful 
to  them,  and  so  I  am,  the  while  I  gather  the 
fruits  of  their  well-doing,  to  the  extent  of 
several  large  baskets  of  tomatoes,  every  week. 

I  had  hardly  supposed  that  the  world  held 
as  many  little  yellow  butterflies  as  there  are 


220     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

winging  their  way  by  us  just  at  this  time. 
I  do  not  know  why  they  are  migrating  like 
this;  perhaps  it  is  to  escape  the  approaching 
rainy  season.  The  air  is  full  of  them;  for 
days  they  have  been  drifting  past  the  house, 
in  fluttering,  corn-coloured  clouds,  millions 
and  millions  of  them,  so  light  and  pretty  and 
dainty  and  gay  —  little  Psyches,  hurrying  to 
meet  the  Cupids  who  seem  to  be  calling  to 
them  from  somewhere  in  the  north. 

April  2nd. 

It  is  the  greatest  mistake  to  suppose  that 
there  is  no  spring  in  the  tropics.  It  is  true 
that  there  is  no  winter  —  that  frost  never 
comes,  and  snow  never  falls,  and  the  trees  are 
never  bare  and  leafless.  But  as  for  spring 
—  it  is  with  us  and  about  us,  below  us  and 
above  us;  the  earth  knows,  even  here,  when 
it  is  spring-time,  and  the  sky  knows  it,  and 
we  know  it  because  they  do.  Five  days  ago 
the  clouds  began  to  gather  —  little  pearl- 
grey  things,  so  light  and  filmy  and  trans 
lucent  that  they  seemed  no  more  than  shad 
ows,  yet  were  really  and  truly  clouds.  They 
passed  over  the  sun,  overcasting  it  for  just 
a  moment  or  two,  then  they  vanished,  leaving 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      221 

the  world  all  brilliant  and  dazzling  as  before. 
But  the  next  day  they  came  again,  and  were 
a  little  heavier  and  darker,  and  stayed  a  little 
longer,  and  before  they  disappeared  they  had 
sent  down  to  us  the  first  drops  of  rain  that  we 
had  seen  since  last  November.  The  children 
and  the  servants  frisked  about  in  the  tiny 
sprinkle,  laughing  and  shouting,  and  hold 
ing  out  their  hands  to  catch  the  drops  as  they 
fell.  I  wanted  to  do  the  same  things,  but  it 
would  not  have  been  dignified,  so  I  just  ran 
down  to  my  garden  and  watched  the  little 
splashes  of  water  as  they  hit  the  dust  and 
made  holes  in  it,  but  seemed  not  to  be  wet 
enough  to  moisten  it  at  all.  I  told  all  the 
dry  and  thirsty  cabbages  and  beets  that  in 
just  a  few  days,  now,  they  would  have  as  much 
water  as  they  wanted,  to  bathe  in,  or  to 
drink.  I  reminded  the  tomatoes  that  they 
had  had  four  months  of  hot  sunshine,  and 
that  into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall,  so  I 
hoped  they  were  not  going  to  complain;  and 
then  I  bent  low  to  the  earth,  and  warned  the 
plaga  that  they  would  better  go  away  from 
there  as  fast  as  they  possibly  could,  as  a  flood 
was  coming,  and  if  they  stayed  they  would  all 
be  drowned. 


222     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

Each  day  since  then  we  have  had  showers, 
and  though,  five  minutes  after  they  have  fal 
len,  the  ground  is  as  hard  and  dry  as  before, 
we  know,  now,  that  the  rainy  season  has  be 
gun,  and  that  in  a  week  or  two  there  will  be 
moisture  in  abundance.  In  the  meantime  I 
am  having  my  garden  beds  raked  over  and 
prepared  for  the  seeds  that  I  am  going  to  sow 
in  them;  and  all  the  ground  outside  the  wire 
fence  is  being  dug  up  and  made  ready  for 
the  plants  from  the  troje. 

For  the  past  week  or  two  I  have  been  feel 
ing  just  as  I  do  at  home  when  the  first  spring 
days  come  to  us.  I  must  have  been  a  bird, 
once,  I  think  —  some  kind  of  migratory  bird; 

—  for  no  sooner   is  there  the   first  hint  of 
spring  in  the  air  than  I  begin  to  be  restless, 
and  to  long  to  fly  away  somewhere  —  no  mat 
ter  where,  only  away.     Then  it  takes  all  my 
little  store  of  common  sense  to  keep  me  from 
going  to  Forty-second  Street,  and  getting  on 
the  first  limited  train  that  is  pulling  out;  or 

—  still  greater  temptation  —  from  hurrying 
down  to  lower  Broadway  and  engaging  a  pas 
sage  on  one  of  the  transatlantic  steamships. 
About  the  middle  of  April  this  mood  passes 
off   for  the   time,   and  with   the   first   warm 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     223 

days,  comes  the  desire  to  be  in  the  country. 
I  want,  then,  to  do  just  what  I  am  doing 
now  —  to  walk  over  soft  earth  and  grass  in 
stead  of  city  pavements,  and  to  touch  with  my 
hands  fresh,  green,  growing  things.  As 
Kent,  at  Christmas  time,  kept  thinking  of 
New  York  in  the  Holidays,  so  I  am  now  call 
ing  to  mind  all  the  phases  of  life  there  in  the 
early  spring.  It  is  a  gay  and  pleasant  sea 
son,  and  though  the  thoughts  of  it  are  not 
causing  me  to  be  one  bit  homesick,  they  are 
filling  me  with  a  sort  of  home  love,  and  home 
loyalty  that  make  me  glad  that  I  have  lived 
just  where  I  have.  It  is  such  a  pity,  I  think, 
for  children  to  be  educated  abroad.  If  a 
child  is  taken  away  when  he  is  five  years  old, 
as  Don  Roberto  was,  for  instance,  and  if  he 
spends  all  his  childhood  in  a  foreign  land, 
how  is  he  ever  really  to  know  and  love  his 
own  country?  No  years  of  living  in  it,  after 
wards,  can  make  up  for  all  the  memories  that 
he  has  lost,  and  all  the  impressions  and  in 
fluences  that  he  ought  to  have  been  absorbing; 
and  I  should  think  he  would  never  be  able  to 
feel  —  whatever  he  might  say  — "  Right  or 
wrong  —  my  country !  " 

Don  Roberto  and  I  have  had  a  final  con- 


224     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

versation  on  the  subject  of  our  regard  for 
each  other,  and  I  think  he  is  as  satisfied  as  I 
am  that  there  can  be  nothing  more  than 
friendship  between  us.  He  came  a  few  days 
ago  and  asked  me  to  decide,  one  way  or  the 
other,  whether  I  would  marry  him  or  not; 
and  when  I  said  that  I  was  very,  very  sorry, 
but  that  I  was  sure  I  never  could,  I  was  quite 
certain  that  he  felt  relieved.  I  fancy  that 
the  last  three  months  have  shown  him,  as  well 
as  they  have  shown  me,  that  our  ideas  of  life 

—  our  beliefs,  traditions,  intincts,  prejudices 

—  are  totally  dissimilar;  that,  because  this  is 
true,  any  fancy  that  we  might  have  for  each 
other  could  be  only  for  the  moment,  and  that 
there  is  not  the  slightest  foundation  for  the 
affection  of  a  lifetime.     On  my  part,  the  sen 
timent  that,  at  Christmas  time,  was  so  near 
to  being  love,  has  died  away;  and  I  truly  be 
lieve  that  his  feeling  has  changed  just  as  mine 
has.     His  real  nature  is   Colombian,  and  a 
woman  with  an  American  temperament  would, 
after  a  while,  bore  him  terribly.     I  think  he 
began  to  realise  this  when  he  went  to  the  car 
nival,  in  Barranquilla.     I  have  felt  it,  more 
or  less,  ever  since  we  spent  three  days  in  the 
woods;  and  with  the  coming  of  spring,  and 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     225 

the  thoughts  of  the  homeland  that  it  has 
brought  me,  I  have  become  absolutely  sure 
that  this  international  marriage  would  be 
hazardous.  And  now  I  am  not  going  to 
think  any  more  about  loving  anybody,  but  just 
devote  my  time  and  attention  to  early  vegeta 
bles. 

To-day  our  plantation  looks  as  if  there  had 
been  a  fall  of  snow,  over  night,  and  every 
coffee  plant  had  been  powdered  with  flakes. 
All  the  thousands  of  trees  are  in  bloom,  and 
anything  more  daintily,  exquisitely  lovely 
than  the  acres  and  acres  of  white  flowers  it 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine.  I  have  never 
seen  Japan  in  its  cherry  blossom  season,  but 
I  refuse  to  believe  that  it  is  any  prettier  than 
a  coffee  plantation  in  full  bloom.  By  moon 
light  the  effect  of  snow  over  the  trees  is  so 
real  that  it  is  startling,  and  last  night  when 
I  went  out  into  the  cool,  pure  air,  and  stood 
viewing  the  estate  spread  out  before  me,  it 
seemed  hardly  possible  that  I  was  not  looking 
at  an  early  winter  landscape  in  the  country, 
at  home.  The  blossoms  are  on  the  trees  for 
only  a  day  or  two,  but  while  they  last,  the 
place  is  fairyland. 


226     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

April  i8th. 

For  the  past  ten  days  rain  has  fallen  in  re 
freshing  quantities  every  afternoon;  the  earth 
is  no  longer  hard  and  dry,  and  the  vegetation 
is  green,  now,  instead  of  dusty  white,  or  faded 
brown. 

Yesterday,  and  last  night,  we  entertained  a 
"  commission  "  from  Santa  Marta  —  that  is, 
a  military  force  consisting  of  a  captain  and 
twelve  men;  the  officer  was  our  guest,  in  the 
house,  while  the  privates  bivouacked  outside. 
The  squad  was  sent  here  to  recover  rifles  said 
to  have  been  stolen  from  the  government,  and 
the  other  plantations  are  being  similarly  vis 
ited.  Nearly  all  of  the  mozos  were  in  the 
revolution  at  one  time  or  another,  but  when 
they  retired  to  a  civilian's  life,  they  "  laid 
down  their  arms  "  only  figuratively,  while  lit 
erally  they  one  and  all  retained  them  for  per 
sonal  and  private  use.  This  was  done  all 
over  the  country,  so  now  that  the  war  is  over, 
the  government  is  sending  out  these  "  com 
missions  "  to  gather  up  the  guns  wherever 
they  can  be  found. 

The  phrase  "  arms  stolen  from  the  gov 
ernment  "  reminds  me  of  the  way  in  which, 
when  I  was  in  Bogota,  both  the  liberals  and 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     227 

the  conservatives  used  to  encourage  them 
selves  and  their  parties  by  making  statements 
which  were  exactly  alike,  but  which  were  pre 
sented  in  such  opposite  forms  that  they 
sounded  like  contradictory  propositions.  One 
day,  for  instance,  I  heard  a  liberal  sympa 
thiser  say,  boastingly,  "  Soon  the  government 
will  not  have  any  arms  left:  the  liberals  are 
seizing  them  in  all  parts  of  the  country." 
That  very  evening  a  conservative  remarked  to 
me — "The  liberals  are  in  a  bad  way:  they 
have  no  arms  at  all,  except  those  they  have 
stolen  from  the  government !  " 

We  spent  Easter  in  Santa  Marta,  going 
down  last  Thursday,  and  coming  up  again 
Tuesday  —  the  day  before  yesterday.  Kent 
did  not  return  with  us,  as  he  has  gone  to  Cu 
racao  on  business,  and  will  be  away  for  two 
or  three  weeks.  We  stayed  at  the  hotel  while 
we  were  down  —  the  hotel  that  must  once 
have  been  a  fine  old  Spanish  residence,  but  in 
which,  at  present,  one  eats  in  the  stable  yard; 
or  else  the  mules,  pigs  and  chickens  have  their 
quarters  in  the  dining  hall-- 1  have  never 
been  able  to  make  out  which  arrangement  it 
it.  The  menage  is  so  purely  Colombian  that 
I  like  to  stop  at  the  house,  occasionally,  for 


228     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

a  bit  of  native  atmosphere  and  local  colour. 
During  Holy  Week,  Santa  Marta  was  al 
most  entirely  given  over  to  religious  observ 
ances,  scarcely  any  business  being  done.  The 
churches  were  decorated  with  quantities  of 
lamps,  candles  and  flowers,  natural  and  arti 
ficial,  much  more  than  they  were  at  Christmas 
time,  and  in  some  of  the  chancels  were  plat 
forms  or  stages  on  which  were  represented 
scenes  from  the  life  of  Christ.  In  one  was 
The  Temptation  on  the  Mount,  with  full- 
sized  figures  of  Christ  and  the  devil;  another 
had  the  tomb,  guarded  by  Roman  soldiers  — 
real  men,  in  Roman  armor,  who  walked,  all 
day  long,  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  sepul 
chre.  We  went  to  the  cathedral  on  both 
Good  Friday  and  Easter  Sunday.  On  Friday 
there  was  no  music;  the  whole  interior  of  the 
church  was  heavily  draped  in  black,  and  at 
one  time  all  the  candles  were  extinguished  and 
the  place  was  in  complete  darkness  for  several 
minutes.  Then  a  great  curtain  which  hung 
before  the  altar  was  rent  in  twain,  and  there 
were  sounds  as  of  thunder,  and  stones  falling 
one  upon  another.  During  part  of  Saturday 
the  little  square  in  front  of  the  cathedral  was 
thronged  with  persons  gathered  to  see  Judas 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     229 

hanged  in  effigy.  The  stuffed  figure  was  sus 
pended  from  a  rope  stretched  across  the  street, 
just  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  and  it  was 
left  there  for  several  hours  —  without  doubt 
conveying  some  manner  of  edification  to  a 
people  whose  sensibilities  would  hardly  be 
touched  by  any  less  material  form  of  teaching. 
Monday  morning  we  took  the  little  Santa 
Marta  railroad  and  went  out  to  spend  the 
day  on  one  of  the  banana  plantations  of  the 
United  Fruit  Company.  We  had  a  delight 
ful  time,  and  acres  of  banana  trees  are  a  beau 
tiful  and  impressive  sight  —  beautiful  espe 
cially  when  there  is  a  slight  breeze  blowing, 
and  all  the  great  leaves  are  waving  to  and 
fro.  But  Oh  !  it  was  so  hot,  and  there  were 
so  many  mosquitoes  !  I  am  very  glad  to  have 
been  there;  to  have  walked  under  the  trees, 
in  the  shade  of  those  broad  leaves,  and  to 
have  seen  growing  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  bunches  of  bananas;  but  for  every  day  in 
the  year,  I  am  happier  to  be  staying  on  a 
coffee  finca,  four  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 


May  I 

About  ten   days  after  we  came  up   from 
Santa  Marta,  Willie  was  taken  ill.     He  had 


230      COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

a  bad  cold,  and  a  fever  that  we  could  not 
break,  and  I  began,  then,  to  understand  what 
it  means  to  be  twenty  miles  from  a  doctor. 
A  steamer  happened  to  be  in,  and  its  physi 
cian  came  up  here,  but  he  could  stay  only  over 
night,  so  I  suppose  it  was  not  his  fault  that 
he  did  not  do  any  good.  Willie  grew  worse 
instead  of  better,  and  the  only  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  take  the  little  fellow  to  the  coast. 
Two  men  carried  him  down  in  a  hammock, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  rode  with  them 
• —  La  Nina  Eva  with  Dollie,  the  baby,  in  her 
arms. 

They  have  been  gone  two  weeks,  and 
though  Willie  is  much  better,  I  have  no  idea 
when  they  are  coming  back,  and  I  am  so 
lonely  that  if  the  disagreeable  Englishman 
should  come  riding  up,  I  think  he  would  be 
surprised  at  his  welcome.  I  never  realised, 
before,  how  large  this  plantation  is,  and  how 
far  away;  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  my  at 
tention  is  drawn  to  the  fact  that  the  servants 
speak  nothing  but  Spanish.  The  sun  appears 
to  be  setting  so  much  earlier  than  usual,  too; 
before  I  know  it,  the  daylight  fades,  and  the 
house  begins  to  grow  dark,  and  though  I 
hurry  from  room  to  room,  and  light  the 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     231 

lamps,  there  are  still  shadows  in  the  corners, 
and  the  evenings  are  several  hours  longer  than 
they  were  two  weeks  ago.  I  seem  to  be  in 
finite  distances  from  home  and  from  any  one 
that  I  care  for.  I  wonder  how  far  it  is  from 
here  to  Curacao. 

Everything  has  gone  steadily  wrong  ever 
since  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin  went  away.  The 
cook  has  been  getting  married,  and  has  taken 
up  her  residence  in  a  rancho  on  top  of  the 
hill.  It  is  long,  long  after  the  usual  time 
when  she  comes  down  to  make  our  coffee  in 
the  morning,  but  the  dinner  is  ready  by  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  in  order  that  the 
bride  may  go  away  early  enough  to  prepare 
the  evening  repast  in  her  own  home.  Yester 
day,  when  I  called  her  attention  to  the  eccen 
tricity  of  her  meal  hours,  she  said,  "  In  the 
morning  you  tell  me  I  am  too  late,  and  in  the 
evening  you  say  I  am  too  early,  so  how  am  I 
to  know  what  you  mean?"  When  I  first 
came  up  to  El  Cafetal,  and  heard  Mrs.  Mar 
tin  say,  "  Well,  I  am  going  to  despatch  the 
cook,"  the  remark  sounded,  to  my  unaccus 
tomed  ears,  rather  ominous.  I  have  since 
learned  that  the  cook  is  despatched  three  times 
a  day,  and  that  the  term  implies  no  more  than 


232      COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

the  giving  out  of  rice,  lard,  platanos  and  me- 
langa;  but  during  the  past  few  days  I  have 
earnestly  wished  that  I  could  carry  out  the 
idea  in  its  English,  rather  than  its  Colombian 
signification. 

Almost  every  man,  woman  and  child  on  the 
place  has  taken  this  occasion  to  develop  some 
internal  disorder,  and  morning,  noon  and 
night  they  come  to  me  for  "  remedies" 
Mrs.  Martin  keeps  a  stock  of  medicines  on 
hand,  and  that  is  all  very  well,  for  she  knows 
what  they  are,  and  when  to  give  them,  and 
how  much ;  but  I  do  not  know,  and  such  things 
really  ought  not  to  be  experimented  with. 
The  people  come  to  the  door  of  the  despensa, 
and  ask  for  some  more  of  the  stuff  that  La 
Nina  Eva  always  gives  them,  out  of  a  blue 
bottle;  but  as  there  are  four  blue  bottles,  and 
I  do  not  feel  competent  to  choose  among  them, 
I  refuse  to  give  them  any  remedio  at  all,  and 
then  they  ask  me,  very  pointedly,  how  soon  I 
think  La  Nina  Eva  is  coming  back.  I  do  not 
believe  that  there  is  anything  very  wrong 
with  most  of  these  applicants  for  medical 
treatment,  but  to-day  there  has  been  a  case 
that  was  really  serious.  The  housemaid  had 
an  "  ataque,"  and  I  hope  I  shall  never,  never 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      233 

have  to  see  another  one.  An  ataque  is  a  sort 
of  fit,  and  in  this  instance  it  looked  like  a  com 
bination  of  hydrophobia  and  lock-jaw.  The 
girl's  paroxysms  were  so  violent  that  four 
persons  could  scarcely  hold  her  in  the  bed. 
She  stiffened  herself  out  so  that  she  could  be 
lifted  from  the  shoulders  as  if  she  were  a 
stick  of  wood;  she  doubled  herself  backwards 
until  her  head  and  feet  almost  met;  her  eyes 
protruded;  her  face  was  horribly  white, 
though  she  is  an  Indian;  she  foamed  at  the 
mouth  and  her  teeth  were  locked,  so  that  it 
was  impossible  to  force  anything  between 
them.  After  a  while  she  grew  calmer;  then 
she  lay  and  gasped  for  breath,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  she  could  not  live  a  moment  longer. 
Presently,  however,  she  showed  a  great  desire 
to  sleep,  and  I  thought  that  would  be  good 
for  her,  but  the  other  women  said  it  would  be 
dangerous  to  allow  it,  so  they  carried  her  out 
of  doors,  and  forced  her  to  walk  up  and 
down,  one  supporting  her  on  each  side. 
Gradually  she  became  more  like  a  rational 
being,  and  now  she  is  quite  sane  and  quiet. 
She  is  very  weak,  but  as  her  teeth  are  no 
longer  set,  she  can  receive  stimulants  and 
nourishment,  and  they  tell  me  that  by  to- 


234     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

morrow  she  will  be  nearly  as  well  as  ever. 
If  El  Senor  Consul  could  have  warned 
me  that  I  was  going  to  be  left  alone  with 
people  who  were  subject  to  ataques,  I  do 
not  know  that  I  should  have  had  the  courage 
to  come;  but  as  it  is,  even  in  the  midst  of  these 
melancholy  experiences,  I  do  not  regret  that 
I  made  the  experiment.  I  have  been  at  El 
Cafetal  almost  a  year,  now.  I  like  the  life; 
and  I  am  glad  to  have  lived  it,  and  to  have 
felt  for  myself  the  quick,  strong  heart-beats  of 
a  new  country.  '  To  be  in  a  new  land  — 
with  an  old  friend."-  -  It  seems  to  me  that 
Kent  is  a  long  time  in  Curacao. 

May  22d. 

Things  went  on,  from  bad  to  worse,  until 
two  days  ago.  Then  a  mozo  brought  up  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Martin  in  which  she  said  that 
Willie  was  so  much  better  that  they  had  de 
cided  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  stay 
in  Santa  Marta  any  longer,  and  that  they 
were  coming  up  the  next  day  —  yesterday. 
I  was  so  happy  I  could  have  danced  for  joy, 
but  I  only  sang,  as  I  flew  about  the  house, 
making  everything  ready.  The  children 
were  as  excited  as  I  was,  and  together  we 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      235 

gathered  roses  and  put  them  everywhere  in 
the  rooms,  and  made  a  little  fire  in  the  sala, 
that  there  might  not  be  the  least  possibility 
of  chill  or  dampness.  Breakfast  was  ordered 
for  twelve  o'clock,  as  I  knew  that  the  travel 
lers  would  leave  Santa  Marta  very  early  in  or 
der  not  to  be  overtaken  by  the  afternoon  rains. 
At  half  past  eleven  the  table  was  decorated 
with  flowers;  everything  was  ready,  and  the 
children  and  I,  in  cleanest  and  freshest  of 
gowns,  began  to  look  down  the  road  for  the 
first  moving  speck  in  the  distance.  But  at 
twelve  there  was  no  one  in  sight  —  at  half 
past  twelve  —  at  one.  Alva  began  to  cry, 
and  my  heart  grew  heavier  and  heavier  every 
instant.  At  half  after  one  we  sat  down  to 
breakfast,  alone,  and  how  I  hated  the  sight 
of  the  flowers ! 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  I  said,  quite  gayly  to 
the  children.     "  They  will   surely  come  to 


morrow." 


"  Of  course  Willie  is  worse,"  I  told  my 
self,  gloomily.  "  They  won't  be  here,  now, 
for  weeks  and  weeks,  and  in  the  meantime 
the  world  will  probably  come  to  an  end." 

It  had  begun  to  rain  soon  after  twelve,  and 
it  poured  until  five.  Then  the  sun  came  out 


236     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

brilliantly,  and  as  the  house  had  been  grow 
ing  emptier  and  emptier  all  the  afternoon,  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  not  stay  in  it  another  min 
ute,  and  I  went  down  to  my  garden.  The 
day  before,  everything  there  had  seemed  to 
be  doing  finely  —  all  the  young  plants  jump 
ing  up  in  the  spring  rains,  and  looking  green 
and  prosperous.  But,  now,  I  noticed  that 
worms  were  eating  the  hearts  out  of  the  cab 
bages;  that  some  one  had  carelessly  stepped 
on  the  cucumber  vines  and  broken  off  two 
cucumbers,  and  that  all  the  beds  were  discour- 
agingly  full  of  weeds.  I  walked  aimlessly 
about  for  a  while,  then  I  went  on,  a  little  be 
yond  the  garden,  under  some  banana  trees,  out 
of  sight  of  the  house  and  the  road.  The  sun 
was  beginning  to  go  down ;  I  knew  with  what 
terrible  swiftness  it  would  disappear,  once  it 
reached  the  horizon,  and  I  saw  that  it  was 
time  to  go  back  to  the  children,  and  to  light 
the  lamps  in  those  lonely,  lonely  rooms. 
The  rain-drops  from  the  broad  banana  leaves 
fell  on  my  head  as  I  made  my  way  up  the 
slope,  but  as  my  face  was  already  wet  with 
tears,  a  little  more  water  made  no  difference. 
Just  as  I  was  thinking  this,  I  heard  hurried 
steps  behind  me.  I  stopped  and  looked 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR      237 

around;  and  there,  in  the  light  of  what  had 
suddenly  become  the  most  beautiful  sunset  I 
have  ever  known,  stood,  as  it  seemed,  an 
angel;  —  a  wet  and  very  muddy  man  angel, 
in  riding  clothes.  As  we  looked  at  each 
other,  I  suppose  he  saw  my  tears,  and  I  saw 
something  in  his  face  that  made  my  heart 
beat.  There  was  no  question  asked  or 
answered  between  us;  there  seemed  to  be  no 
need  of  any.  I  cried,  "  Oh,  Kent!  Kentl  " 
—  but  then,  for  several  minutes,  not  another 
word  was  spoken. 

"  But,  little  one,"  Kent  said,  after  that  in 
terval;  "  do  you  realise  what  you  are  doing? 
I've  put  every  cent  I  have,  and  more,  too, 
into  that  land  up  there,  and  for  the  next  five 
years,  at  least,  I've  got  to  stay  on  it.  There 
will  be  no  Europe  — " 

The  reply  that  I  made  to  this  was,  for  a 
governess,  a  most  disgraceful  one.  If  Car- 
melita  had  said  anything  of  the  kind,  I  should 
have  pointed  out  to  her,  with  maps,  that  the 
situation  was  geographically  impossible. 

"  For  all  I  care,"  was  my  sweeping  asser 
tion,  "  Europe  may  be  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Red  Sea." 

It  is  evident  that  Kent  is  not  keen  about 


238     COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR 

geography,  for  he  seemed  to  find  this  state 
ment  in  every  way  satisfactory. 

But  in  a  moment  or  two  he  remarked,  in  a 
regretful  tone—  ;'  Well,  I  suppose  you'd  bet 
ter  go  up  and  see  Mrs.  Martin." 

"Mrs.  Martin!" 

11  Certainly." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  At  the  house.     They  are  all  there." 

"  They  can't  be  — " 

"  But  they  are" 

"  How  did  they  come?  Why  didn't  they 
come  before?  " 

"  On  mules,  in  the  usual  way.  Because 
they  had  to  go  so  slowly,  on  Willie's  account, 
that  they  were  caught  in  the  rain,  and  have 
been  in  a  rancho,  down  the  road,  all  the  after 
noon,  waiting  for  it  to  clear  up.  As  soon  as 
it  did,  they  came  on." 

"But  you—  ?" 

"  I  got  to  Santa  Marta  at  eleven  o'clock 
this  morning,  and  left  there  at  twelve.  I 
caught  up  with  the  Martins  about  half  an 
hour  ago,  just  as  they  were  leaving  the  rancho 
below  here,  and  we  rode  the  rest  of  the  way 
together.  When  we  got  here,  the  children 


COFFEE  AND  A  LOVE  AFFAIR     239 

said  you  were  out  somewhere  around  the 
garden,  and  I  offered  to  find  you  —  as  I 
have  — 

— "  Now,  shall  we  go  up  to  the  house?  " 


THE  END 


001248043    o 


